AU: Save the Baby, Save the World
by Hornless Bull
Summary: Sylar does not kill Elle on the beach. Instead they go on a cross country killing spree. Nathan hooks up with Danko, who obsessively hunts Sylar, and by extension Elle. Features all the good M stuff, such as sex, violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

Tilting.

Tilting the man so his head touched the floor, Sylar smiled. Why was this always so much fun? Still, improvisations help provide variety. Plus, it might amuse her.

Elle's slightly manic laughter confirmed his suspicion.

'How terrible. Turning him upside down . . . for a man that is supposed to defy gravity and walk on walls that must be humiliating. The whole letting him use his power but being helpless thing.'

'Yes,' Sylar responds, 'and it means the blood will make less mess.'

Upside downman, who's name for the next few seconds is Ed, starts to scream. Sylar drags his finger in a familiar slow steady motion, which cuts the scream off mid course. Blood, bone and cerebral fluid gush across the shower floor. They mix into a red slushy with a white half coconut shaped island that travels across the smooth cement toward the drain.

Slyar crouches down, squints and looses himself in the minutia of Ed's mind.

Elle flips some stray blond hair away from face. She glances toward the shower room door. Really she expected a man that could defy gravity to have a good job. Local community college janitor seemed a little un- ambitious, which does not matter now. Still, Ed cleaned the gym alone every morning which was convenient. At least no one else was around to hear the screams.

'Done.'

'Breakfast?'

'Sure.'

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Hmm . . . waffles, eggs, milk and a coffee,' Elle states with her normal overly chipper voice.

'And for you, sir?' asks the middle aged waitress.

'Cereal and orange juice.'

'Ok, anything else,' queries the bemused waitress.

'No, just the cereal for the cereal killer,' Elle responds with slightly twisted smirk.

'Yes, just cereal.'

'Ok.' The waitress walks away from the worn red padded booth toward an equally worn counter. She says something Elle cannot hear to the man standing behind it, with a slight glance back toward Elle and Sylar.

'What did she say?'

'How am I supposed to know?' responds Sylar. 'My hearing is not any better than yours now.'

Elle makes a child like pouty face, 'Yeah, but I thought it might be interesting. I don't get to make that joke much.'

'I would prefer you did not make it at all,' Sylar said.

'But that's no fun. Maybe I should tell her you're a real serial killer?' she says as she smirks, again.

'I would like to eat,' he says.

She sticks her tongue out in response.

He looks at her long blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail, her slim figure accented by the sleeveless blue blouse and tight black slacks. Her brilliant blue eyes add to that aura of naïve innocence she so easily projects. Slyar things she looks like any other beautifully, young businesses woman out for an early breakfast. Her appearance belies the deranged killer underneath.

Elle's lighthearted mood starts to fade under Sylar's intense brown eyed stare. She fidgets in her seat, starting to feel like an unsettled, she asks, 'Who's next?'

A smile spreading across his face Sylar says, 'Why your boy toy, Peter.'

'But he lost his powers.'

'Yes, I know.'

Elle tilts her head to the left slight wrinkles crease her forehead. 'If he does not have any powers, then what's the point?'

'It will be fun . . . plus, it will upset my would-be mother,' Sylar said.

Elle glances toward the waitress, her mind wondering where the food is and why they always return to this conversation.

'Killing Peter will upset Angela. It will upset Natahn. It would be fun but it would make things harder. If Peter dies, Natahn and Drako would stop at nothing to find you,' Elle says with a slightly tired voice like someone making the same argument for the thousandth time.

'They will do anything to find me, now. This way I can hurt them for coming after you,' Sylar said.

'No.'

A slight sneer passes flickers across Sylar's face. He keeps wondering why she does not wish to go after Drako.

'Why do –'

'No.'

'I don't-'

'The food's coming,' she cut him off again as the waitress arrives with a tray.

The waitress places Elle's waffles in front of her. Then she places the cereal and orange juice front of Sylar.

'Anything else?'

'No,' Elle blurts out quickly, 'we're fine.'

The waitress gives her a slightly confused look, shrugs and walks back to the dinner's counter.

'I got away . . . plus think how many people Drako will catch while we waste our time chasing after Peter. Hmm, how many powers will slip through your fingers,' Elle says in a calming seductive tone. Her hand reaches across the worn tabletop toward Sylar, their fingers intertwine and she pulls his hand towards her. 'Please, let's get someone else . . . someone with powers.'

He stares at her pleading electric blue eyes. The warmth of their interlocked fingers distracts him. She knows that her touch will soften his resolve.

'Who then?' he asks.

'The invisible man.'


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes_

_Warning: Character Death _

_Still, no M material. It will occur soon. _

_Please, review. Any comments or criticism welcome. _

Checkers.

Who likes checkers that much? Really, why make the whole floor red and black tile? With Manhattan studio apartments renting at over twenty-five hundred a month, one would expect a more tasteful entryway. Most people probable never notice just how bad the floor looked. Well, Sylar thought most people never stood on the ceiling either.

'How do you catch an invisible man, Elle?' Sylar asked with a slightly bemused smile. He tries to gentle unlock their interwoven fingers. Elle frowns slightly and tightens her grip. She seems unwilling to let him eat his cereal. Sylar thinks that for such a small woman he grip is unusually strong, not that he usually minds, considering what she does with it.

'Just like in the movies, turn on the sprinkler system. Then he is not invisible anymore.' Elle flashed an impish smile, which showed just how insightful she thought the comment.

Sylar pulls at his hand again. Elle's eyes shift away from his face. Then she releases her hold. Sylar clenches and unclenches his fingers attempting to stop the tingling after the little jolt Elle gave him when she let go. He flashes her an annoyed look and takes a bite of his cereal. The slightly charged silence draws out as he chews.

'Yes, that would work . . . but let me rephrase the question. How do you _find_ him?' Sylar asked with slight irritation.

'Oh, that is even easier. I know him.' Elle again flashes the girl next door smile. 'See he used to work for the company but he is out of the loop now. Bennett almost captured him about a year ago, but Peter saved him, I think . . . Anyway, the company found out where he lives. We never got around to doing anything about it. Among you, Claire and Adam, no one had the time. So, I can show up at his door and get us in. Then we do our thing.'

'And he will let Little Miss Sociopath in?'

The smile tightens on Elle's face, 'I asked you not to call me that.'

'Sorry. I-'

'No, you're not.'

'Elle, please. I was just trying to be funny.'

'It wasn't. I might be a lot of things but I am not a sociopath.'

No you're just the deranged woman I am sleeping with, Sylar thinks. Who gets incredible turned on by killing people, which would be completely normal for . . . a sociopath.

'I'm sorry,' he says while reaching back across the table to hold her hand. 'The problem is he may know me or heard of me. Then if he sees us together things get harder. Unless, you want the sprinkler system to get you wet too.'

'If you hide, then I can get him to show himself. He will at least want to talk to me. Then I give him a little jolt and he's all yours.'

Sylar cuts off his reply as the waitress approaches. The slightly overweight middle aged woman appears hesitant, a slightly uncomfortable smile on her face. She holds a piece of thin rectangular white paper.

'Everything alright?' she asks.

'Everything's fine,' Sylar responds politely, 'is that the bill, ma'ma?'

'Yes.' The waitress places the paper on the table top and turns to leave.

'You know serial killers don't pay bills,' Elle says with a quietly insistent voice.

The waitress pauses mid turn. Sylar quickly laughs which sounds forced and overly fake even to him.

'You'll have to forgive her. She thinks that's the funniest joke ever. Caused us some trouble with the rental car. Right, dear?' While his voice sounded politely apologetic, he non-to gently squeezed Elle's hand, with his much larger fingers crushing hers uncomfortable together.

Elle smiles. Her long golden hair, fair complexion and electric blue eyes give her an aura of polite naiveté, 'Just a joke, dear.'

The waitress unfreezes, a trouble frown crosses her face, and she quickly crosses back to the dinner's counter. Once again, she speaks with the man standing behind it, while throwing confused looks at Elle.

'What is wrong with you?' Sylar's voice is low and harsh.

'Let go.' Sparks travel from Elle's fingers directly into Sylar's hand, which was gripped painfully tight around hers. He releases her hand. Then he jerks his arm back across the table.

'You need to control yourself,' he says. His left hand cradles the blanked remains that were once his right palm, with the skin already knitting back together. 'This is a public place and Drako would not hesitate to come after us here. Maybe you forgot the last time?'

'I'm just having a little fun. I did not forget and there is nothing wrong with me. It's just . . .' the defiant look she was giving him shifts away as her voice trails off.

'It's just what?'

'Nothing. Claude lives in Manhattan,' Elle blurts out.

'Claude?'

'The invisible man.'

Sylar likes being back in New York, even if it is Manhattan. Things feel comfortable, familiar. What feels neither comfortable nor familiar is standing upside down in an entryway. Plus, the floor looks absolutely hideous, with its alternating red and black tile. Elle stands near the elevator doors. She keeps looking up at him every few seconds like he was somehow going to move without her noticing. Nothing on the ceiling to hide behind, unless you count the doorman's corpse, with its neck twisted at a very unnatural angle. Sometimes there really are stupid questions, like 'who're you, bud?' Did he really look like a 'bud' to this overweight, red uniform wearing, powerless weakling? A slight twist from his telekinesis coupled with a wicked little cackle from Elle, and no more 'bud' questions. Hiding the corpse presented a problem initially. The entryway was sparsely furnished. Elle suggested hiding 'bud' on the ceiling with him.

The apartment building door opens. A young couple wearing fashionable winter coats walk through the door. Their steps falter when they see Elle. She flashes her best cute innocent blue eyed girl smile. The woman checks one of the mail boxes. Then the couple walks past Elle and into an elevator, which dings its departure. Once again, Elle looks up at Sylar. His black shirt and pants standing out against the white ceiling like a menacing gargoyle silhouetted against the sun. He smiles reassuringly at her, again.

The door opens. Nothing. It closes. Elle's body tenses. Suddenly a gray haired man wearing a worn trench coat appears before her.

'Elle?' his voice disbelieving.

'You look like you saw a ghost or an invisible woman, Claude.'

'I am supr-' his statement, whatever it may have been cut short by the electricity shooting from Elle's outstretched hand.

Claude flies across the entryway. His body slams against the wall a few feet above the checkerboard floor. Claude slumps to the floor.

Sylar drops from his spot above and to the right of the entry door. He starts walking slowly toward Claude. The latter blinks, looks at Sylar with unfocused eyes and then he disappears.

Sylar halts mid stride. He looks around. Nothing. Immediately he uses his telekinesis to hold the apartment building door closed.

'Elle, elevators.'

She nods and starts to step backward, when an unseen force hurls her across the room. She tumbles into a half dead furn. Knocking it over on top of herself, electricity already forming between her hands, she looks around again.

'Stop.' That was all the warning he gave her. His mind already reaching out toward the sprinkler above, he drops 'bud.' The body crashes with a sickening thud to the floor below. He twists the sprinkler head. Suddenly the entryway fills with deafening noise and spraying water. A high-pitched scream cuts across the fire alarm's deafening ring. The elevator door opens. A distorted liquid humanoid changeling stumbles through it. Sylar runs across the slick tilt floor. He disappears through the door.

Elle twists in agony on the floor. Her body shoots off little uncontrolled sparks, with each one causing a terrible biting tinkling pain. She can smell the raw ozone of her power turning against her. Elle crawls toward the door that will lead to her to the street, to anywhere but this cold liquid hell. Her long golden hair hanging lank across her face she crawls on soaked hands and knees. Each time she moves a new spark makes her scream. Suddenly two strong hands lift her. She can feel the electric current coursing through her. It jumps away from her to cause the two strong hands a grunt of pain. Then the door opens and she is outside. Turning in mid air she feels half pulled and half carried down the alley besides the building.

Then she is sitting on the ground beside a stack of cardboard boxes. She looks around. Nothing.

'Sylar?' her voice timid and lacked with pain.

'Sylar?' this time louder, more urgent.

Then he is there standing before her. His black clothes cling to his frame, with a slight manic smile and the last few streaks of Claude's blood on his face.

'You like,' his voice happy like a child showing off a new toy. He crouches down in front of her. Then he pulls a towel from the box next to her. Smiling he hands it to her.

'I thought this might happen. That's why I wanted to get here while you were still shopping,' his voice still proudly happy.

Sirens that were once distant start to sound louder.

'I need to go to a hospital,' Elle says. Her voice soft with worry and pain.

Frowning Sylar asks, 'Why? Just get the water off and you will be fine.'

'Yes,' she responds hesitantly, 'but . . .'

'But, what?'

'I'm late.'

'Late for what,' his voice changing from proud to confused.

'I'm late.'

'Late for what,' this time less confused and more irritated.

'Do I have to spell it out for you.'

'Yes,' this time irritation sounding through strongly.

'The Canfield House, the beach, afterward. . . we were not always _safe_.' Her gaze directed beseechingly up toward him. The words coming out as a pleading whisper.

'Oh.'


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes_

_M material. Only the second time I wrote a scene like this so any comments or criticism welcome._

_Please, review. _

_Canfield House-Six Weeks Ago_

Promises.

She smelled like Promises Sylar thought as he pressed his mouth hard against hers. He pushes his tongue against Elle's closed lips. It slid in touching, twisting against hers.

Suddenly he is stumbling back. His balance broken by leaning over Elle, which let her push him away easily. Sylar mouth open, breathing hard, looks at her confused.

Elle smiles wickedly at him. 'We have the whole house to ourselves. Lay down.'

'No.' Sylar reaches out toward her instinctively with his right hand and it's injured shoulder. Elle bats his hand away. A sudden explosion of pain makes Sylar scream out. His other hand cradling his hurt shoulder.

'Like I said, lay down,' Elle says again. Her lips widen into a Cheshire cat smile.

Sylar flashes a dark eyed hateful look at Elle, which if he had powers, might have caused her some concern. With their powers mysteriously gone, she knew a one armed former watchmaker was little threat to a well trained company girl like her. Sylar lies down on the Canfield house's cold hardwood floor.

Elle licks her lips. She starts slowly swaying her hips back and forth, while unbuttoning her jacket. Beneath her blue tank top stands out against her pale cream skin. Sylar's eyes are roaming across her body. Elle can almost feel their dark heated gaze. She kicks her shoes off, sending one and then the other sailing past his head. He leans right then left to avoid the flying footwear.

'Bitch.'

'Shh . . .' Elle's only response as she pulls her slacks down slim toned legs. Elle tosses the black pants at Sylar. He swats them away with his good arm.

Then Elle stands only a few feet away. Perky breast covered by a black bra with pink lace. Matching panties cover Elle's sex. Both bra and panties are unbelievable covered with little pink polka dots.

'I never figured you for a pink lace and polka dots girl.'

'Shh . . .,' is all the response Elle gives. Slowly Elle bends down to all fours. Then she starts to slink across the floor toward him. Sylar swallows, more like gulps at the intense wanton look in Elle's azure eyes. He feels himself growing harder.

Then Elle is straddling him. Her sex grinds against him through his jeans. Sylar leans forward cupping the back of Elle's head with one hand, while the other rubs against her moist heat. They kiss open mouthed and sloppy. Elle's small hands scramble against the buttons of his shirt.

Sylar slides a finger under her panties and inside her. She moans against his lips. Suddenly she pulls at his shirt. Buttons pop off and she throws it across the room.

Then her hands are pulling at his belt. Sylar pulls out of her. He starts to reach down to help with his pants. Then two little hands grab his.

'No,' Elle's voice breathy and strained with lust. She shoves his hand back under her little black and pink polka dotted panties. Sylar thrust two fingers into her. Elle throws her back with a moan. Elle's two hands feel like twin vises on Sylar's forearm. He runs his thumb over her clit. With mounting speed he starts making tiny circles with his thumb, while he slides a third finger into Elle's tight little pussy. He can feel her hips bucking against his hand. Elle keeps trying to shove his hand keeper inside her, while grinding against him. Elle feels a tension building inside her. Then suddenly she throws her head back and lets out a loud moan that ends with her screaming out his name.

Elle stops grinding her hips against his hand. She looks down at him all blue eyed innocence, with her lower lip caught between her teeth. Then she pulls his hand out. Slowly she brings his hand up to her mouth. One by one she licks his fingers clean, tasting herself as she does. All the while, Sylar stares transfixed at her clear blue eyes. When she's done, she lets his hand go.

'Fuck me,' the best two words Sylar had ever or will ever hear.

They both start fumbling with his pants, again. Elle slides them down past his knees, where she struggles getting his boots and pants off. Finally she succeeds and crawls back over top of him. Sylar kisses her hard, his tongue teasing hers. He moves his hands to her back. Sliding them up he attempts to find the clasps to her little black bra. While not the most experienced lover in the world, he finds nothing. No little hooks, no clasp, no button, only soft satin and lace.

Elle pushes against his chest. Leaning back she smirks again. Reaching in front she unhooks the bra, which joins the other cloths somewhere on the far side of the room. Two small breasts with hard rosy nipples are suddenly assaulted by Sylar's mouth and hands. He cups the right one kneading it, while occasionally tugging at the nipple. His mouth envelops the other, while his tongue runs across the little nipple. Elle pulls his head hard against her with small pale hands running through his dark hair. He hears her moan throatily as he licks a line from one nipple to the other, taking the second in his mouth. Face pressed against Elle's chest Sylar starts to pull at her panties. Shifting a little Elle reaches down with one hand helping him pull them down. She kicks her legs finally shedding her last item of clothing.

Releasing his head Elle reaches down with both hands to pull at his boxers. Bucking his hips Sylar helps her slide them down and then kicks them off.

Elle wraps a hand around his hard member. She pumps her hand up and down its length. Leaning down she flicks her tongue out against the tip. Sylar lets out a stifled moan. Then a wet heat envelops him. Elle swallows him, while working her tongue against the underside of his shaft. With one hand cupping his balls, the other stroking his shaft and her mouth sliding warm and moist against him, Elle hears him moan her name.

As suddenly as she started, she releases him. He looks at her, his gaze confused. She positions her sex right above his hard member. Grapping it with one hand she rubs it against her moist clit.

'Elle, I-' his words cut off as she slides him inside her.

Leaning forward, her lower lip caught between her teeth, she starts to drive her hips against him. Slowly at first then with increasing speed she pushes against him. Up and down riding him like a pony, she feels him grab her hand. She has one hand placed against his chest, which pins him to floor. Sylar grips the other one, taking her first two fingers in his larger hand. He then pushes them against her clit. He starts working her two little fingers against her own clit.

Elle releases her lower lip. Throwing he head back she starts trusting herself against him harder. Between his hard member moving inside her and her own fingers she can feel an electric charge building inside her.

'Fuck me . . .Fuck me. . . harder, Gabriel,' his real name slipping past her lips. Their hips thrusting together in a frenzied rhythm, Elle feels a warm electric release rush out from her belly. Her head thrown back Elle lets out a scream that ends with his name.

Sylar hears Elle call him Gabriel again, while her sex grips him impossible tight. His hips buck once more he buries himself deep inside her. He finds release. He thrusts twice more and then stills.

Elle opens her eyes, seemingly unaware they were closed. She lies down on his chest. Nipples still hard, she holds him inside her. She feels him kiss the top of his head. Then he pulls her hair out of the pony tail. Elle feels a gentle warmth inside her that was never there before now. Listening to Sylar's heart beat, she hears his breathing start to slow. Once more Elle closes her eyes, this time to doze with her lover in warmth she only previously imagined.

_Manhattan- Present Day_

'Oh,' his only response to the bomb that just went off in the alleyway. The possibility that Elle could become pregnant never occurred to him. His mind running through the Canfield house, the beach and afterward, she was wrong. _They had never been safe._

'We have to go.' Sylar reaches down to help her up. His strong hands lifting her again, Elle wraps her arms around his neck, while he carriers her down the alley. They disappear into the dark spaces between the buildings, yet, not before one set of eyes noticed the soaking wet blood speckled pair.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes_

_This is a new chapter to drive the plot along, with a fight scene coming up soon. Two additional characters appear. _

_Please, review. _

Enemy.

If you are public enemy number one, where do you take your possible pregnant girlfriend for medical treatment? The local hospital would be a very bad idea, too many people, too many questions, too many cameras. Also, a random doctor's office would probable end just as poorly. Evolved human serial killer did not come with a health care plan. No insurance means a large bill and maybe payment in advance. With little money left in his bank account, Sylar doubts that the doctor's office would enjoy payment in a random selection of gold objects. The Midas touch was useful but required a pawn shop, which required time Elle insisted they did not have. Also, killing people in a doctor's office may bring Danko's attentions.

Another option was some gangland or discredited doctor running a 'clinic' out of some rented house or office space. The problems with that option, while numerous, centered around two main things. He did not wish some possible alcoholic quack touching Elle, might less his child. Plus, he lacked any organized crime connections.

All those considerations led him back to Queens. The first he had to get a cab. Attempting to hail a cab a few blocks from Claude's apartment proved difficult. Two people soaking wet, with one speckled with blood, looked like trouble to most New York City taxi drivers. With little electric currents running across Elle's body, Sylar was quickly loosing patience. The fifth yellow taxi that started to slow near Sylar became his victim. No longer was he going to permit it to slow, take a look at the young couple, and quickly speed back into traffic. Reaching out with his mind Sylar simple turned the key. The cab came to a sudden halt a few feet from the curb. Again, reaching out with his mind Sylar yanked the door open. He placed Elle as tenderly as possible in the back seat and then sat down next to her.

'Thanks, for stopping. The Queens-Long Island Physicians Group, please. The 2000 block of Zeckendorf Boulevard,' Sylar said to the driver, while flashing his best innocent watchmaker smile.

The cabbie remained gabbing open mouthed at the couple. Flicking his right index and pointer finger, Sylar started the taxi.

'Now, please,' his tone more insistent.

Muttering something under his breath, the cabbie pulled back into traffic.

'Sylar.'

'What?'

'The babe . . .' her voice trailing off as she cured up against him. The little static discharges randomly playing off her skin. Little lighting storms striking his arms, Sylar hugged her to him. Kissing her damp hair he could smell an electric ozone tang.

'I'll make everything OK. See I fixed this doctor's watch once . . .'

_Building 26-A Few Hours Later_

'Bennett'

Noah Bennett throws a glance over his shoulder. Emile Danko stands in the doorway of his office. His face set, Danko's dull eyes fix Bennett from across the headquarters room.

'Come into my office,' Danko says, then turns in the doorway and disappears within.

With little choice, Noah starts walking casually between the desks and analysts that inhabit the headquarters room. Well, if it were something too extreme, he would not ask me into his office Noah ponders as the doorway grows closer. Still, the man's attitude reminds him too much of a wolf inviting a sheep into its lair. That is not something Noah is comfortable with . . . perhaps he misjudged Danko. Danko's hunt for 'evolved humans' was reaching megalomaniac proportions.

Entering, Noah sits himself uninvited across from Danko. The desk cluttered with a computer monitor, requisite keyboard and various folders. If Noah's presupposition actions bothered Danko, he did not show it.

Suddenly a sickeningly twisted smile crosses Danko's worn face.

'Your friend is in New York.'

'My friend?'

'You're familiar with Claude Rains?' Receiving a slight nod from Noah, Danko continues, 'Sylar killed him a few hours ago.'

A slight twitch and the readjustment of his glasses is all the outward reaction Noah permitted himself.

His voice thicker with more emotion than he wished, Noah asks, 'I assume Elle was involved?

'Of course . . . those two are a regular Bonnie and Clyde, but more lethal and unfortunately more competent. The good news is we had Mr. Rains under surveillance. Our agents Taub and Mills were able to follow the pair. Apparently Sylar had to carry Elle away from the apartment building. Then they took a cab to Queens.'

'Sylar is too smart to return home . . . plus he has my daughters ability, which-'

Slight irritation twisting Danko's expression, 'Yes, I am familiar with Sylar's abilities. He took Elle to Queens-Long Island Physicians Group. They are there now with a doctor Andrew Stinson. That name mean anything?'

'No.' Noah shakes his head. He leans back in the leather chair attempting to create separation from Danko. It seemed unlikely that Danko brought him in here to ask about some random doctor. Especially, when any information the company had about the doctor was easily accessed from Danko's computer.

'Would you tell me why I'm here?' Noah asks.

'The team that was going after Rains will now take down Sylar.' Raising a hand to forestall Noah's interruption, 'I know you dislike it, but do you have anything constructive to add? You've dealt with Sylar and Elle before . . . is there anything you held back from our previous conversations?'

'No, I told you everything. Your agents will fail.'

Danko shakes his head, with a slightly exasperated look crosses his face. 'Noah we learned from the last time. Also, this time we know where they _are_ and not where they _were_. We won't go stumbling in on the mid-kill today. They are a target of opportunity that the Senator and I believe are worth the possible damages.'

'While I would like nothing more than to see Sylar dead, this last minute change in targets, combined with the public setting almost guarantees a spectacular failure. You're throwing those agents away,' Noah says ruefully.

'Perhaps. Since you have nothing useful to aid, leave.'

Noah stands, adjust his suit and glasses, and starts walking toward the door. Almost through the doorway Noah hears Danko call out, 'Bennett.'

Pausing Noah looks back.

A polite smile covers Danko's face, which fails to touch his dull lifeless eyes, 'Your daughter's special circumstance depends on your usefulness to this organization . . . Next time be a little more insightful.'

Turning, Noah leaves without a word.

_The Queens-Long Island Physicians Group-Meanwhile _

'Mr. Gray for Doctor Stinson.' Sylar says to the receptionist.

Elle and he stand in an expensively decorated waiting room. Tasteful leather couches, dark wood paneling and equally dark carpeting make the waiting room look more like a lawyer's office than a private medical facility. Well, with the cliental that visit this place, good looks are expected Sylar thinks.

'Do you have an appointment, sir?' the thirtyish woman asks.

Her gaze drifting from Sylar to Elle, who stands slightly behind him, Elle twitches randomly as electric currents run amiss through her body. Even mostly dried off from the towel and the cab ride, she feels a nauseating concern for baby that might be growing inside her. She hates that her nerves always manifest with these damn sparks. One psychologist called it psychosomatic, which was just his attempt to call her psycho to her face. Elle smiles at the memory of what she did after he called her that. Those screams and the smell of charred meat and-

'Ow,' a little spark twisting it way up Elle arm causing her to call out.

'Ma'ma, are you alright?' the receptionist asks.

'Fine, thanks.' A strained smile on her face, Elle flashes Sylar a look urging him to hurry.

'Everything's fine. I am here to get Doctor Stinson's watch, the Blancapin Tourbillion Gold Rose. I worked on it before for him and he called me today. I happened to be in the area so I offered to pick it up, so he wouldn't have to travel to my shop.' Sylar explains in a calm reasonable voice, with his best earnest watchmaker face.

With a reluctant look the receptionist says, 'I'll call him.' She reaches down to a phone, dials a few numbers and holds it to her ear. 'Dr. Stinson, a Mr. Gray is here about your watch. It was Gray, right?'

'Yes, I worked his watch about a year and a half ago,' Sylar replays.

'He says he work on your watch for you, doctor. Something about needing to pick it. OK.'

She places the phone down, looks up at Sylar and says, 'He's in his office. Go through the doors behind me, turn left and then right at the next intersection. His office is the third one down on the right.'

'Thanks,' giving the receptionist a sheepish grin Sylar reaches out to Elle. Taking her by the arm, with his other hand on her back he guides her deeper into the doctor's office.

They walk together through halls floored with white tile and paneled with dark wood broken up occasional landscape scenes. Once they appear to be alone, Elle slows.

'Are you upset with me?'

Sylar stops shifting his hands to lightly grip her shoulders he asks, 'About what?'

Looking pleadingly up at him, 'About you know . . . about maybe being pregnant.'

'No, Elle. I have always wanted to know my real family, for them to be special. Now, we may be that family.'

'But what you said earlier on the beach, I don't want you to think I was lying, and-'

'It's OK, now. I have it all figured out.' He pulls her into a hug, resting his chin on top of his slightly damp golden hair. He was upset on the beach. He was upset now, but he could feel his power working. Not any power but his. That power which made special. His mind was fitting pieces together. Soon he would know how to deal with her and maybe his child. A smile spreads across his face, no longer the earnest watchmakers, it was Sylar's. 'It'll be, OK. I promise.'

Pushing her slightly away from him, he reaches up with one hand tilling her head toward his. He kisses her gently, deeply. After a moment he pulls away, Elle places her head back against his chest. She listens to his heart beat, noticing a slightly different rhythm than before.

'Let's go see the doctor.' His words vibrating against her ear as he speaks.

'Ok.'

'Afterward, I'll get you a Slush-O.'

'I'm a big girl. You don't have to bribe me.'

'I'm not. . . . I just figured it would cheer you up. A celebration of sorts.'

Looking at his quizzically as they walk down the hall, Elle says, 'That sounds good then.'

Reaching the doctor's office, Sylar motions for Elle to remain outside. The door slightly ajar, he pushes it open and walks inside.

A middle aged black man sits behind an expansive wooden desk. Various certificates and pictures cover the wood paneled walls. The man looks up with a polite expression, some confusion playing out around his eyes.

'Remember me, doctor.'

'Yes, Mr. Gray. You fixed my watch for me. Is there something wrong with it?'

'No, nothing's wrong, doctor. I think it's working perfectly.'

'Then why are you here, Mr. Gray?'

'Call me, Sylar.'


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes_

_Rather short chapter that features a fight. M for violence. I rewrote the chapter a few times. Let me know what you think. Please, review._

* * *

Alone

Elle hated feeling alone. The emotion was overwhelming. Standing by herself in a hallway sparking randomly and possibly carrying Sylar's child unnerved her. Initially she heard a quite conversation in the other room, and then another man yelled something, which was cut off quickly. Next what sounded like a chair being turned over, which was followed by the comforting sounds of Sylar's voice. She could not make out what he was saying but it sounded calm, reasoned. She listened desperately to that sound, which soothed her electric nerves.

A middle aged black man steps into the hallway. His face slack, eyes distant he apprises Elle. 'This way ma'ma,' the voice subdued, cowed.

The man started down the white tiled hallway. Elle follows slowly behind, when she feels Sylar slid his hand into hers. She looks over to notice a faint smile playing across his lips. Looking forward again, they follow the doctor into an exam room.

* * *

_Outside The Queens-Long Island Physicians Group_

'Go.'

Eight black clad figures burst through the main entrance. The receptionist screams. A low humming sound provides an undercurrent to the human terror. Then the scream cuts off, leaving only the sound of hurried steps.

Through the office doors the black figures swarm down the hallway. Four turn right, while the four others go straight. Their presence draws attention. The sudden appearance of dark clad, armed men and women seems at odds with the normally pleasant environment of the medical facility. Nurses, doctors and patients pause. Their faces display a mixture of confusion, shock and curiosity. The answer is always the same. A low humming sound as the tranquilizer seeks its target, a grunt, which is followed by a thud and sometimes a crash that marks an abrupt descent to the floor.

The operatives move quickly, yet the process seems agonizingly slow. Each room requires checking, each desk, closet, or table could hide a potential threat. Again, and again two agents hold out in the hallway. Their backs pressed against the door frame. Two sets of eye scan down opposite sides of the hall. The other two agents enter, sweeping the room with their eyes and weapons. Another room cleared, more people encounter and neutralized. The targets remain undetected. A few quick steps lead to another closed dark wood door. Black gloved hands reach out turn the handle. Two agents enter. An indigent voice silenced by the familiar low hum.

Movement down the hall. A woman brown hair, blue dress walks around some corner with a small child. Holding the child's hand she stops. The little boy looks up and then follows her gaze down the hall.

The humming sound. A surprised gasp that is a mixture of a moan and grunt escapes the woman's lips. Shifting the black clad figure looks at the boy. Already worked the action, with the spent tranquilizer cartridge ejected, a dark gloved finger rests on the trigger. The sites three white dots form a line pointing at the child's chest. Still holding the woman's hand, the little boy looks down. Hesitation. At first the boy is quite, and then a scream escapes his lips. It is the sound of a wounded animal, like that of child watching a sick parent collapse inexplicably. The ear shattering mournful noise overwhelms the low humming. Then the noise ends. Running feet sound throughout the halls. People young, old, with some dressed in white and other barely dressed materialize like apparitions. The child's strangled haunting cry summing them on some basic primal level. Pandemonium.

_Examination Room One-The Queens-Long Island Physicians Group_

'Stay here,' Sylar's voice assured commanding.

Elle and the doctor watch him disappear into the hall.

Sylar sees people. Dozens of people running, shouting, screaming as the surge randomly about the wood paneled hall. Some run toward the main entrance and others away from it. He lifts his right hand, points the first two fingers and causally flicks the fingers right and then left. Bodies lift off the ground and slam against the walls. The force of the impacts make a series of thuds and cracks, which is followed by a second softer series of thumps as the bodies slowly slide down to the floor. An initial quite quickly descends into a cacophony of noise. Screams, moans and other sounds of human misery fill the hallway.

Sylar walks down the hall stepping over an assortment of outstretched limps. Some stir in agony, others bend at odd, inhuman angles and a few are unnaturally still. Past the main entrance and its intersection, a man falls down. Sylar smirks because beyond the fallen man are two black figures.

Blue electric current sparks from his hand. For the briefest of seconds Sylar is connected to the agent down the hallway. Then the latter flies backward, strikes the ground and skids. The smell of charred flesh fills the hall. A humming noise accompanied by motion. Something more felt than seen draws Sylar's attention. His mind reaches out and returns the gift to the second agent. A splash of blood and gurgling sound indicates that Sylar missed. He silently ridicules himself as he stalks closer to his prey. He intended to send the tranquilizer into the agent's chest but it went high and into his throat.

Suddenly two more agents appear out of a doorway. More blue lighting sends the first agent forcefully into the second. Sylar reaches out and lifts the second figure into the air. He pulls it out into the hallway. Noting the strained features, he can feel the agent struggle against his control.

'If I let you live, will you tell Danko-' Sylar's gloating arrogant tone cuts off.

'She's in here,' the doctor's voice faint from the distance separating them.

Sylar whirls around. He sees two operatives move into the exam room, while a second pair run down the hall toward him.

_Elle_.

Sylar forms his hand into a fist. Behind him a scream, the snap of bones pushed in on themselves and blood bedecks the floor, the walls and the ceiling. Running back towards the exam room, Sylar raises his right hand. One line of electricity sparks, followed by another, which again causes the sound of bodies hitting the floor accompanied by the smell of overcooked meat.

A body skids out of the exam room. The agent lays limp with a smoldering blackness covering his chest. Then the doctor crashes through the doorway. His face looks stricken, while a large black mark mares his pristine white coat. His legs collapse beneath him. Sylar snares and sends a little blue spark to finish the job Elle undoubtedly started.

Then Sylar is at the door. Looking in he sees Elle slumped on the bed, with a tranquilizer dart in her chest. Next to her stands a brown haired woman. Their gazes lock. The woman reaches out to Elle. Sylar raises his hand. Then the woman is gone. Her form blinked out of existence, Elle along with her.

Vanished.

_Next On: Elle's fate will be reviled. Also, Danko, Bennet, and Agent Mills drama. _


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes_

_This is the longest chapter yet. I had some of it written last time but wanted to work on it more before posting. No violence or M material, just a few references and mild language. Enjoy. Please, review. _

Empty.

The medical facility lobby was empty. Well, technically furnishings covered the floor and the walls, plus there was an unconscious receptionist behind the main desk. Then two forms appeared suddenly. A black clad brown haired woman clutched desperately at a small blonde. The blonde slumped listlessly against the brown haired woman. The blonde appeared rather short, attractive, and well dressed except for the orange vial that protruded from her chest.

The black clad figure threw the blonde over her shoulder. Then she started an awkward running carry toward the outside doors.

'Mills,' she spoke with a strained voice into her headset.

'Go ahead,' a second sedate male voice answered.

'I have the Bishop. We are exiting the building now. The rest of the team-'

'We know. Get in the van,' the voice said.

Shifting the blonde a little, Mills pushed open the first and then the second set of doors. They were outside, where a late afternoon sun washed gently across the cityscape. Mills stumbled down the steps toward an oversized black delivery van. The back doors opened as she approached. A pair of black gloved hands pulled the blonde from Mills shoulder. Then it helped her into the back of the van. The back door slammed shut as the van pulled away from the curb. Merging with traffic, the driver noticed the wail of approaching sirens.

* * *

Sylar stood looking at the empty room.

_Elle_.

His hand remained outstretched. It felt fixed to where the woman was before she disappeared. Sylar saw something like this before but. . . surely none of the agents had powers. Yet, he could think of no other explanation for how the woman stole Elle from him. She must have the same ability as the Japanese Guy . . .Hiro?

While he felt a piece of his brain ticking how the woman disappeared, he wanted, needed Elle. He did not know where the woman might take her but there was someone who would.

Sylar steps back into the hall. He feels Claude's invisibility slide over him, while he picks his way through the scenes of human misery he created.

* * *

_Building 26- A Few Hours Later_

'Bennet.'

Noah sighed. He looked across the headquarters room toward the familiar diminutive form of Emile Danko. Their eyes met.

'Come into my office,' Danko states pleasantly before disappearing in to his lair.

Noah stands and sighs, again. He starts walking across the headquarters room, picking his way between the various desks and agents milling about. Resultantly he reaches the door, steps in, and closes it behind him. Noah takes a seat in the familiar straight backed leather chair across from Danko. The latter looks at him silently for a moment.

Emitting a third sigh, Noah says, 'You wanted to see me.'

'Yes, we have a friend of yours,' Danko says with a self-satisfied smile.

'Oh, who's dead this time?'

'She is not dead. The lovely Ms. Eleanor Bishop is in custody,' Dakno states with barely concealed pride.

'And, Sylar?'

'No, unfortunately not. However, Ms. Bishop's arrest provides a change in plan. Our agents found the pair at a medical facility in Queens. One of our agents was able to grab Ms. Bishop and escape, while Sylar killed the rest of the team.' Danko raises a hand to hold off whatever comment Noah was about to make.

Continuing Danko says 'Yes, you made your position clear before . . . Anyway, our doctors examined Ms. Bishop. Just the normal screening procedure before her long nap, which for Ms. Bishop, produced interesting results. While she appears healthy, her blood work revealed a very serious medical condition.'

Danko pauses, with his face now twisted into a self congratulating smirk, he looks calmly at Noah. The latter says, 'Fine, what serious condition does she posses that Sylar's blood, or rather the ability he stole from my Claire, can't fix?'

'She is pregnant.'

With an open mouthed disbelieving look, Noah leans back in his chair. He knew that Elle was sleeping with Sylar but he never considered the idea that she would get pregnant. Elle never displayed much self-control but he expected her to take at least some precautions. Unless she thought the child might trap Sylar. Maybe use the kid to force Sylar to keep her around longer. Possibly but who could imagine the dynamics of their relationship, and how a child might influence them; however, Elle always expressed distaste for children or child bearing. In spite of her age, Elle always acted like an over grown child when around Noah, perhaps a sociopathic, homicidal, manically active, child but a child none the less. The idea that she could conceive a child of her own just never occurred.

'You know what that child represents?' Noah asks.

'Yes. It is an opportunity.'

'An opportunity,' Noah exclaims standing up, 'it is the spawn of a sociopathic and a psychopathic serial killer. This is as close to the spawn of Satan or the anti-Christ as we may ever see. Who knows what powers it may inherit from its father or mother, not even to mention its grandparents.'

'I am aware Bennet,' Danko snarls out. 'This is something the Senator and I have discussed. Now sit down.'

Noah looks at Danko. His own face a mask of rage and disbelief, while Danko is his normal shark like calm, the smile set but the eyes dull and lifeless.

Noah sits in the suddenly uncomfortable leather chair. 'What does the Senator think is best?'

'Ms. Bishiop represents an opportunity. First, let me say she was. . . uncooperative when she first woke up. Once the situation was explained to her, and the possible consequences to her child, she decided to play nice. We do not know what the sedation drugs long term effects maybe. As I explained to Ms. Bishop, if she did not cooperate, sedation was the only option. Who knows what that may do to the child? Currently she is in a holding cell, while more permanent accommodations are being arranged.'

'You'll need to-,' Noah speaks up.

'Yes, I know Bennet. Let me continue. While the President has permitted us a free hand, there are problems. The main issue is recruitment. Other government agencies will not just hand over their trained experienced operatives to us. Also, it is difficult to find people with the requisite training, experience and security qualifications. Additionally, convincing the right people to sign on has proved problematic of late. Word gets around that too many people are dying. The people we need travel in tight knit circles and are reputation is damaged. Basically, Sylar has killed off too many agents and we have a man power problem. Some of the more dangerous evolved humans may kill or an injury an agent occasionally but not like he does.'

'You can't be considering using Elle,' Noah says. 'Letting her out would prove disastrous.'

'I agree. Ms. Bishop will remain her. It was The Company's own problems with recruitment, which pressed someone that unstable into the field. No, that is something I would never consider. What the Senator and I have discussed is something else entirely.'

'What?'

'Others have attempted this before but lacked a measure of control, which Ms. Bishop and the unborn child represent. Sylar is-,'

Springing to his feet, Noah slams one hand against the desk, while the other points at Danko's face. 'NO! That is insane. The man needs to be put down like a dog.'

'Sit down.' Danko says. His voice calm, quite. The smile gone from his lips, Danko's face appears cold and statuesque.

Noah glares at Danko across the desk. His breath coming in short anger gasps.

'Sit down, _now_.'

Noah glances away and sits. _Claire_.

His face still unreadable Danko continues, 'The Senator agrees that Sylar is a dog. As you so eloquently put, however, we are going to teach him some new tricks. I am sure that Sylar will contact us at some point about his little whore. Then we inform him of the new arrangement. He will remove those individuals that we do not have time for or that causality levels might prove acceptable to approach. Obviously we will give him the target and let him lose with only a few stipulations. The target dies, he does not take their power and no. . .unwanted attention or causalities. In this manner he becomes a very valuable asset to this department.'

'How do you know he even cares about her?,' Noah quires.

'Well, he took her to a doctor. Plus, he killed seven of my men to save her, which indicates he might care a little. If he does not contact us in a few days, Ms. Bishop and her child will be disposed of in another manner,' Danko states as the smile returns to his lips.

'Why not just have him turn himself in?,' Bennet asks.

'You actually think he would?'

'No'

'Exactly,' Danko states 'he knows that we will kill him. Also, if he turns himself in, then we are free to experiment on Ms. Bishop and his child. Considering things from his perspective, means that his continued freedom permits some measure of control. He knows that you and the Senator will kill him no matter what assurances we give. Also, anyone man rescue attempt would permit us enough time to kill Ms. Bishop. He may hurt this department badly with such an attempt but he will fail to save her. The best way for him to 'save' his little family is to remain free. We use his Ms. Bishop against him, but that means she must remain unharmed.'

'Still, if you tell him that these people have powers, he will just take them. It's his compulsion. Hell, it's his whole reason to live,' Noah says.

'Yes, but if he does, then the child and Ms. Bishop will suffer. He will dislike our control immensely. What we will do is select the target, and then arrive after he finishes to inspect the area. If he 'pops their top' so to speak. . . well Ms. Bishop may need sedation after all,' a smile playing cruel at the corners of Danko's lips.

'Other people, who were more experienced with his kind, have failed to control him,' Noah says.

'The Senator and I are aware. The advantage we have is something tangible outside himself, which he will probable do anything to protect. Think of all the things you did to protect Claire, and she is not even _really_ yours?' The last sentence delivered with a knowing smile.

Noah feels his hands shaking. Anger, which he rarely feels, batters at his normal impeccable self-control. Abruptly he stands, walks quickly to the door, flings it open and stalks out.

Danko smiles to himself and reaches toward his cell phone.

* * *

_Nathan Petrelli's Office, Washington, DC _

'Is that all of them?' Nathan Petrelli asks, as he hands what he hopes is the last document back.

'Yes, Senator. Also, Senator Gillibrand's office called and asked if we could push the meeting back to five thirty?' the young woman said.

'Fine,' Nathan says with a slightly weary tone.

'I'll let them know. Is there anything else, Senator?'

'No, thanks.'

The young black woman turns to leave. She walks across the blue carpeted office and out through the door. Nathan looks down at the various papers that clutter his desk. He starts rummaging through various senate reports.

Suddenly he hears the door close. Nathan looks towards the door. He does not see anyone, so maybe his aid closed it to give him some privacy. Nathan starts sorting through the reports again.

'Hello, _Nathan,_' an all too familiar voice says.

Nathan's head snaps up to see Sylar standing in the middle of his office. For the briefest of seconds he sits there, mouth agape, staring at the black clad specter.

'How di-,' Nathan's words are cut off as he slams into the wall behind his desk.

'You have something of mine, and I want it back.'

* * *

_Originally I planned a couple more scenes. One was between Danko and Mills, with the other being between Danko and Elle. Neither one fit well into the chapter. I may include them as flashback. I plan to play out some of volume four with Elle at Building 26, with a few twists. Look for more Heroes characters appearing soon. _


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes_

_This post focuses on Sylar with a little Elle, who will get more time in the next chapter. M material, violence and language. __**Minor Character Death. **_

_Thanks for the reviews. Enjoy._

* * *

White.

A white hot anger pumped through him. Sylar could feel the tension pounding through his veins. In his mind the hunger ticked steadily away lusting for Nathan's power. Holding the Senator penned to the wall, Sylar's left hand rises almost involuntary toward Nathan's head. So easy to take that beautifully new power, that new toy, with just a little swipe of the fingers, and then he would have it. That was not why he came but the hunger . . . _Elle._

Sylar releases the tension on Nathan's throat. He then says, 'Nathan, where's Elle?'

'Fuck you, you mons-,' the words cut off as Sylar mental pushes against Nathan's throat.

'Nathan, please is that anyway to talk to your _brother_,' a twisted self satisfied smirk crosses Sylar's face. 'You're going tell me where Elle is now. If you lie, I will know. If you don't tell me, I am going to take you apart piece by little piece. Is there anything about this you don't understand?'

The phone rings.

Its gentle ring at odds with the room's atmosphere. Nathan's face takes on a strained contorted look. Sylar releases the pressure.

Gasping Nathan says, 'There are only a few people who have my direct number. It might even be my assistant.'

Sylar considers the possibilities. Letting Nathan answer would led to many possible unwanted outcomes. Sylar can let it ring, with the hope that the caller would leave a message and ignore the fact no one answered. If it is Nathan's assistant, then she might decide to investigate, which would interrupt his work. Finally, he could answer the phone himself. That option would give him the most control. He could just tell the person that the Senator was otherwise occupied and to call later.

The ringing, which was a trifling background noise during his deliberations, sounds more instant now that he was a course of action. Sylar quickly steps to the desk. He returns some pressure to Nathan's throat, as he reaches down to the phone.

Raising it to his ear, he speaks, 'Hello, Nathan Petrelli's Office.'

Silence.

'This is unexpected,' a male voice says.

A slight pause, then Sylar answers, 'If you wish to speak with the Senator, he's busy. I can take a message.' He tries to sound earnest like some wide eyed government intern.

'Oh, you can take a message, _Gabriel Gray,' _the male voice states with a smugness that seeps like tenders of ice freezing Sylar.

Sylar stands straight backed, with one hand raised pinning Nathan, while the other grips the phone so tightly his knuckles turn white and his hand trembles involuntarily.

The hesitation lasts only a few beats before Sylar answers, 'I haven't any idea what you are talking about.'

'Sylar, can I assume the Senator is with you now?' the voice asks in the same smug tone.

'If you interrupt me, you will be picking Senator giblets out of the carpet.'

Laughter cold, hard and self satisfied comes from the phone, then the voice, 'No, Gabriel that is not your style. You might kill the Senator but 'giblets' would prevent you from getting his power. Your hunger would not like that at all. I know what else you hunger for too.'

'Oh, what's that, friend?'

'Why your little whore, Elle

'Fuck you. The Sen-'

The voice cuts him off, 'The Senator nothing. If you want your little toy to stay alive, you will listen. You are going to leave the Senator alone. You will leave his office once we are done. Then you are going to call the number I give you, which will provide you a job.'

Sylar's laughter echoes around the office. 'You think I am going to work for you? I'm going to kill you.'

The voice responds cooler more authoritatively, 'You'll do what I tell you. Otherwise you needn't worry about your child.' Sylar stands ridged his hand gripping the phone so tight he is afraid it may break.

'What no response? You thought we wouldn't find out? Hmm. Now, listen the people you will remove for us have powers. You will not take their powers. You will not hurt any innocent bystanders. You will not let anyone know you're there. Once you've removed the problem, call us and we will clean up the mess. If I suspect that you have violated are little agreement, well, then we will fix your little domestic problem for you.'

After a pause the voice says, 'Do you understand?'

Sylar stands glaring at Nathan while his body shakes with an impotent frustration, 'Yes, but how do I know you haven't already hurt them?' he asks.

The voice chuckles, and then says, 'You don't, but I figure that the belief that they are unharmed is the only thing keeping the Senator alive. They will remain that way should you become a nice company employee.'

'Why not just ask me to turn myself in?' Sylar asks.

'You wouldn't turn yourself in. Nathan and Bennet would kill you, which you know. Also, you have the delusion that while remaining free you can still rescue your little Elle. Now, do you understand our agreement?

'Yes,' Sylar answers.

'Now get something to write this number down,' the voice on the phone directs.

Sylar gets a pen and some random piece of paper from Nathan's desk. Then he writes down the number.

'How do I know this is not an elaborate trap?' Sylar asks.

'You don't,' the voice answers calmly. 'Do what we ask. That will keep Elle and your child safe.'

'One last question, what's your name?' Sylar asks.

A slight pause before the voice says, 'The hunter.'

Sylar slams the phone back into its cradle. Then he turns to Nathan, who squirms red faced against the wall. The pressure against his throat restricted his breathing a little during the conversation. Suddenly Nathan feels the force against him release. He slides down the wall gasping.

'Nathan.'

The response a mixture of coughs and gasps.

'Nathan.'

'What,' he finally chokes out.

'Eventually, I'm going to kill you.'

Nathan looks around his office. He does not see Sylar. Then the door seems to open by itself. Nathan knows he is alone again.

* * *

_Tom Miller's Home, Richmond, VA – The Next Day_

Tom Miller pours the hot coco into a cup. He takes extra care, not wishing to spill any on his sweater vest like last time. Once he finishes pouring, he places the kettle back on the stove. Then he starts to walk towards his small kitchen table.

Tom, a middle aged bald accountant lives alone, which seems to suit him. He takes a set at his table. Then he gently blows on the coco. He starts to raise the cup when his phone beeps. This unexpected noise startles Tom, which causes his hand to jump. Hot coco spills on to Tom's sweater vest. Tom hurriedly places the cup down. He stands up to grab a towel from the counter.

Patting the towel on his vest, Tom walks over to his cell phone. He flips it open to look at the new message.

FROM: REBEL

GET OUT NOW. THEY ARE COMING.

Tom stands staring transfixed at the phone.

'Hello.'

Tom emits a startled gasp and looks up to see a dark clad man standing in his living room.

'Are you Rebel?' Tom quires.

The dark clad figure tilts his head quizzically.

'Did you send me this?' Tom says as he offers the phone.

The man steps forward and takes the phone. After looking at the message for a moment, the man hands the phone to Tom, while he says, 'Yes, I'm Rebel.'

'It's the government, right?' Tom asks starting pace agitatedly about the kitchen.

'Yes, but before I get you out of here, there is something you need to do.'

Tom stops pacing and looks at the stranger.

'I need to see your power Tom. If you don't have a power, the government will let you go. I need to see what you can do before . . . intervening,' the man says.

A worried looks crosses Tom's features. His eyes roam agitatedly about the apartment. They come to rest on a porcelain figure. Tom crosses to the self. He picks up the figure and places it on the table. Throwing a look at the stranger to insure he is watching, Tom points his finger at the figure, which suddenly dissolves into dust.

'That looks like fun,' the man said.

'No, it's terrible. I hate it. I don't want it,' Tom says.

'I can help you.'

Tom looks expectantly at the man. He sees the man raise one hand with his index finger extended. Then Tom feels a terrible pain slowly moving across his forehead. Tom tries to scream and cannot. Tom wills himself to move. He feels his legs straining, struggling against some invisible barrier. The pain gets worse. Darkness.

Sylar looks down at Tom. The hunger got the better of him but he was expecting that. Reaching down he places everything back inside Tom. Then he returns the top of his skull. Sylar tried to keep the mess to a minimum. Which he obviously failed to do, considering the blood drenched kitchen floor, the blood speckled cabinets and the blood covering his arms.

Sylar steps over Tom toward the sink. He washes some of the blood off his hands. Then he reaches into his pocket to remove a small folding knife. Sylar walks back to stand above Tom's remains. Unfolding the knife Sylar makes a cut across the inside of his right forearm. The blood spatters down across Tom's bald head.

Sylar stands fascinated watching his arm heal. Then he looks down to see Tom's eyelids quivering. A sigh escapes Sylar's lips. He hates doing a job twice but it is the only way to explain the blood. Also, this time he must make a mess of it . . . maybe he should leave 'the hunter' a little something. Sylar smiles as Tom opens his eyes.

* * *

_Tracy's Cell, Building 26- Unknown Time_

Elle leaned against the wall. She wiped the sweat from her face yet again. Elle really hated this place and the other blonde woman's moods were making things worse.

'You look just like her,' Elle says.

'Yes, for the third time, I am not Niki,' the blonde says in a cold angry voice.

Elle continued to stare at the woman that called herself Tracy. The latter looked just like Niki Sanders, who was someone Elle knew about through the company files. Elle never heard about a look alike called Tracy Strauss.

'So, why do you look like her then, and when I say look like, I mean identical to the last detail,' Elle said.

'She was my sister.'

Elle sits against the wall sweating as she considers, 'Funny, I did not know she had a sister.'

'Yeah, I did not know either.'

Stretching her legs out Elle absently mindedly rubs at her stomach. She waits for Tracy to say something more but she stays quite.

After a few minutes go by Elle quires, 'What can you do?'

The blonde just sits chained to her chair surrounded by heat lamps. Elle rolls her eyes and starts looking around the cell again.

'I can freeze stuff.'

Elle's eyes snap back to the woman. After waiting a few heartbeats just so the woman would know how annoying her silence was, Elle probed, 'That explains why this place feel like an oven, but why not put you down like they were going to do to me?'

Again the silence, Elle really is starting to lose her patience with this woman.

Finally Tracy says, 'I was involved with Nathan for awhile.'

'Nathan Petrelli, the Senator?'

'Yes.'

'So if you were involved with Nathan, why are you here?' Elle asks.

'Because he is a self centered prick.'

Elle chuckles softly, 'That could describe all the Petrelli's, except Peter. He's just, I don't know naïve.'

Again the other woman laps into silence. Elle leans against the far wall trying unsuccessfully to escape the heat, while she feels sweat slide uncomfortably down her back. She stares at Tracy's head almost willing her to speak. Sighing Elle asks, 'What was Nathan like?'

This time a short pause before Tracy responds, 'He was lousy in bed.'

Elle smirks, 'That sounds like a problem.'

'Oh, it was, just not for him.'

Elle laughs, while her hands rub gently at her stomach. Her hands continue their mindless soothing motion, while she thinks about how Sylar is in bed.

'Can I ask you something?'

Tracy's voice pulls Elle away from her pleasant remembrances, 'Sure.'

'Why are you here?'

'Oh, I kill people,' Elle answers like it the most natural and expected response.

Tracy remains quite for a time. Elle is about to ask her another question, when Tracy inquires, 'Who'd you kill?'

'Oh, just some people. Lately it's been whoever has a power Sylar wants.'

'You're still working with Gabriel?'

'Yeah, he likes me to call him Sylar and not Gabriel,' Elle said.

'Elle, why are you _here_ and not like the others?'

This time Elle is the one to pause. She does not know if telling Tracy would be a good idea. Elle considers not telling her anything, but figures the other woman may stop talking again. The room was boring enough even with Tracy talking to her. Elle does not wish to experience what sitting quietly for hours with Tracy would feel like.

'I'm pregnant,' the tone soft almost whimsical.

'What?'

'I'm pregnant,' Elle repeats louder.

Again Tracy laps into silence. What the hell is wrong with this woman, Elle thinks? She talks for a minute then goes mute.

'Is it Nathan's?'

The question shocks Elle. She would never expect anyone to think her and Nathan would have a child.

'No, it's Sylar's,' Elle says indigently. Her hands settle protectively over her belly.

'I'm not sure that's better.'

'What's that mean, popsicle?'

Suddenly the door opens before Tracy can respond. A man wearing a tailored gray suit, close cropped brown hair and glasses steps through the door.

Elle looks up, 'Hi, Noah. Imagine seeing you here.'

* * *

_A few notes on this chapter. First, 'the hunter' is Danko. I discovered that was his nickname at the Heroes Wiki and figured he would probably use that than tell Sylar his real name. Also, it took me forever to figure out how to get Sylar and Danko talking. Initially I had Danko walk into the room with Nathan and Sylar but it did not work well. My second idea was the phone, which kind of works. Finally, the part with Elle, Tracy and Noah was originally for the next chapter but I put it up because Elle had not appeared for a little while, and I did not want people to think I forgot about her. Like always please review. _


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes_

_This update features both Sylar and Elle pretty evenly. M sexual references, violent aftermath and language. _

_This story assumes the hallway confrontation between Nathan and Danko, with the Senator flying off, occurs. Thanks for the reviews. Enjoy._

Loomed.

Noah loomed over Elle, with his expression dispassionate. The door clanked closed. Elle could see the sweat already beading up on Noah's forehead. He tosses a water bottle at her. She catches it and starts to drink greedily, suddenly aware of an overwhelming thirst. Noah wanders a few feet away from Elle.

'I thought your Daddy taught you better.'

Elle finishes her water. She screws the cap back on, gives the bottle a quizzical look, while letting Noah's statement go unanswered. Then she chucks the bottle at Noah. His hand swipes it away. It skids across the concrete floor, where it rolls to a stop at Tracy's feet.

'I see your time with Sylar did wonders for your maturity or is it the pregnancy hormones?' Noah asks riley.

Elle stares at him face framed by her wet yellow hair. 'Noah, if I were not soaked, I would kill you.'

Smiling Noah says, 'That is why you're in here.' Pausing to glance at Tracy, Noah continues, 'Actually, you should thank me. Danko wanted to put you in a pool, and everyone knows how much you like to swim.'

'Thank you, Noah. Can I leave, now? Maybe go have a play date with Claire. Perhaps bring my boyfriend along and have a little three-way.'

A stern unamused expression spreads across Noah's face. Elle stares back with a twisted little smirk.

'I suppose it's a good thing Sylar killed Daddy dearest. Seeing his twisted daughter caring that demon's spawn, might have been too much. Even Bob would stop protecting you then. Not like he really cared about you to begin with,' Noah says.

'Fuck you, Noah,' Elle says. Her voice breaking, she looks away.

Noah walks closer. 'Seriously, Elle. You know better. I cannot image you wanted this,' he gestures at her stomach. Elle slides her hands protectively around her waist.

'No,' she responds, 'it just sort of happened.' Elle snorts softly, 'After all, you saw us in the Canfield House. Things just kind of happened. Which reminds me, how long did you watch us?

Elle sees his jaw clench, his face embarrassed.

'Yeah, that's what I thought,' Elle remarks.

'Where's Sylar, Noah? The others won't tell me anything about him,' Elle quires.

'He's out leaving you little love notes,' Noah responds.

Elle looks at him blankly, 'Ok, whatever that means. So you don't have him.'

Noah catches her blue eyes in his gaze, and then shakes his head slightly.

'Good.'

'You think he will come for you?' Noah probes.

Elle responds, 'He is very possessive. Especially when people try to take away his favorite toy.' A wicked smile spreads across her sweat drenched face.

'Is that what you are, Elle? His toy.'

She shrugs, her damp blue tank top clinging to her, 'Yeah, and he's mine.'

'Then what about the kid? Is that his toy too?' Noah suggests.

'No, it's mine. _Mine_. You understand, Noah?' Elle responds her forearms gripping hard around her stomach.

'That sounds like a really healthy relationship, Elle.'

Elle snorts and shakes her head. 'You want something or are you here to enjoy the sauna?'

'Acutely, Elle I need your help.'

Elle's laughter echoes about the heated holding cell. 'Oh, the great Noah Bennet asking 'little Miss Sociopath' for help, that's rich.'

'Elle be serious before the cameras come back on.'

Smirking Elle responds, 'Angent Bishop at your service.' After a short reflective pause she says, 'No, Agent Gray. Definitely, Agent Gray.'

Sighing Noah states, 'I'm going to leave that alone. Moving to business, last night Nathan came by the facility, then he flew out a window.'

Elle gives Noah a dubious look, 'Noah, everyone knows that Nathan can fly.'

'Danko, did not.'

Elle looks at Noah. He stares impassively at her.

'Oh, I get it. Without Nathan to help, you are worried that Danko may move against your precious Claire-bear,' Elle asserts. 'And, you want me to do what?'

'I need someone to remove Danko. If I do it myself, there could be unpleasant repercussions. So if I could find someone else . . .'

'You want Sylar to solve your problem for you. In exchange for little old me and baby, right?'

'Yeah, something like that,' Noah responds. 'I need something that will get him to listen to me.'

Elle looks at him considering for a minute. She traps her lower lip between her teeth. Her blue eyes looking down at the floor between them she says, 'Fine, tell him 'the beach.' That should buy you a minute or two.'

'The beach.'

'Yeah, just that,' she responds looking up.

Their blue eyes meet in a searching stare, with each trying to determine any ulterior motives.

'Fine. Others will be in soon with more food and water.'

Noah walks to the door. He holds his ID to the card reader. The lock clicks and he walks through the doorway. Elle watches him leave, with the door clanking closed behind him.

She sits staring at the heavy metal door until Tracy's voice interrupts her musing, 'So what happened on the beach.'

'Shut up, popsicle,' Elle responds viscously.

* * *

_Tom Miller's Home, Richmond, VA – Earlier That Morning_

'Can you believe this?' the blonde haired agent said.

Sylar watches the brown haired woman stare at the wall. It was the woman from the hospital. He could fell the tick, tick inside his skull. She had a power he wanted, that she was unworthy of possessing. Also, the surging rage he felt upon seeing her again did not help his self restraint. This woman took _his_ Elle from him. He could feel his hands shaking. He thought that invisibility would help him. Instead it permitted him to stand within arm length of her and do nothing, nothing. Oh, how he wanted to hear her scream, and scream. . . but then he would have to start again.

Sylar flicks his eyes to the living room wall. A few bloody splash marks marred his mural. The words Sylar and Elle painted in the big bloody letters covered most of the wall. A large heart with an arrow through it separated the two names.

Sylar sees the woman start digging in her pants pocket. She pulls out a phone, flips it open, punches a few buttons and puts it to her ear.

A sort pause then she says, 'Sir, we're inside.'

'Yes, the head is intact,' she states while throwing a distastefully glance at the mess in the kitchen, mostly in the kitchen. 'The body was torn apart. Like some force just ripped it to pieces and deiced to toss the remains about the room.'

Swallowing her disgust back down she says, 'Yes, I understand. No, that's not why I called. Sylar left something I thought you might wish to know about.'

Her head tilts toward the phone like she is trying to lean in to hear better.

'It's some writing on the wall. Ok, sir. I'll send it to you,' the brown haired woman says.

Then she points her phone at the wall. Pushes a few buttons and then holds it back to her ear. She waits quietly for a few seconds before saying, 'It appears to be the victim's blood. Hmm . . . I do not know, sir. Yes, Agent Williams already took evidence pictures and a cleanup crew is on the way.'

Her hand gestured toward the blonde haired man when she said Williams like the motion would transmit across the phone.

'Ok, we should be back in a few hours. Out, here.' The woman snaps the phone shut. She slides it back into her pocket.

'What did Bennet say?' Williams asks.

'Nothing, just take some pictures and make sure it gets cleaned,' the woman responds.

'That's useful,' Williams states sarcastically. 'Ready to go, Mills?'

'Yeah,' the woman throws one last look around the apartment. Then she follows her companion outside. Sylar follows a few steps behind.

* * *

_Street Across from Buidling 26, Washington, DC-That Evening _

Sylar leans against his stolen care. His gaze wonders across the main entrance of the nondescript office building across the street from him. Sylar followed the agents from Richmond to DC, which was harder than he thought. An invisible man driving a car got more attention than he anticipated. Also, he had to make sure the agents did not spot his car. Thankfully, they stopped for lunch in Fredericksburg, which let him switch cars.

Once the agents arrived in DC, his task became harder. Following a black sedan unnoticed through beltway traffic tested even his considerable abilities. Eventually he followed the pair to a side street faraway from most government offices. A boringly non-descript office building blended in with the other anonymous office high-risings surrounding it. Sylar observed the sedan pulled into the building's underground lot, while he parked across the street. He got out the car to consider his options.

While a part of him wished to go storming inside wreaking murders destruction that was foolish. He did not know how many agents were inside. Also, he did not know if the government had many agents like 'Mills' that used abilities. While he did not doubt he could eventually fight his way through, if someone one got to Elle during the fight . . . No, he did not want to think about that possibility.

Sylar saw a few people enter and depart the building. They all looked unfamiliar yet curiously fit, which probably meant a sizeable number of them were agents. Absently his vision tracked over to the parking garage exit. Suddenly, his vision locked onto a figure driving out in a blue town car. The familiar gray suit, dark hair and glasses. . .Bennet. He watches Noah head south toward a residential district. Sylar quickly enters his car and gives invisible pursuit.

* * *

_Noah's Apartment Washington, DC _

Noah unlocked the wooden door of his apartment. He pushes it open. His eyes glance about the room making sure everything remains in its proper place. Also, he looks for unpleasant surprises like an unlucky burglar or deranged psycho that might have snuck in during his absence. Seeing nothing he steps inside. He turns to close the door. The wooden door stops halfway closed. Noah has time for a confused look before he flies across the room, where he slams into a small picture. He and the small picture fall to the floor.

Blinking against the pain in his head, Noah readjusts his glasses. The door is closed. He starts to stand looking around for the invisible force that assaulted him. Then he feels himself yanked into the air. Slamming against the wall for the second time his vision turns white. Noah blinks repeatedly. Eventually he seems a dark clad man smiling unpleasantly at him.

'Hi, Noah,' Sylar speaks wickedly.

'The beach,' Noah gasps out against the throbbing pain in the back of his head.

'What?' Sylar's tone becomes insistent, 'What did you say?'

'The beach, Elle said 'the beach,' Noah repeats.

Noah falls with a heavy thud to the floor. His head smacks against the wall, which causes him to grunt painfully.

'What do you want, Noah? Where's Elle?,' Syalr demands. When Noah remains seated rubbing the back of his head, Sylar steps closer yelling, 'Tell me!'

'Help. I want your help,' Noah responds.

_Next Time: The Beach, what should have happened, and Noah and Sylar play 'Let's Make a Deal'_

_Any questions, comments or concerns about the fic are welcome. _


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes, etc, or it would be the Syelle show with the other cast members doing cameos _

_This update features both Sylar and Elle on the beach, plus Sylar and Noah. STRONG M, just read and enjoy, hopefully. _

_Thanks for all the reviews._

Bewildered.

Sylar stood bewildered looking at Bennet. The latter was sprawled against the back wall of his apartment. Broken remains of a picture frame scattered about him. Those impossible words Noah said clattered about Sylar's mind. No one besides Elle should know about the beach, no one. Those words spark memories of that night . . .

* * *

_The Beach-Six Weeks Ago_

Sylar stood watching the ocean. The night sky cloudy dark mixed indistinguishable with the oily black sea. He hears the low hissing sound of the sea sliding against sand. He stands alone at the edge of humanity, at the edge of the world. _Hiro_. The man who almost killed him had marooned him here. Where ever this desolate beach might be. A flicker of motion catches his eye. Turning he sees a half dressed Elle.

Elle looks around confused. A moment ago she stood in Noah's Costa Verde house, then a light touch on her shoulder and she stands here. Her eyes dart about the bleak landscape. Sylar stands a few feet away looking at her blankly. The beach is unnervingly empty. A chill ocean breeze makes her pull Sylar's oversized dress shirt tight against her goose bumped skin. She limps across the sand towards her lover.

'What happened?' Elle asks as she gets closer.

Sylar continues to stare at her impassively. Elle stops a few feet in front of him. She gives him a hurt questioning look. His hand rises to stroke the side of cheek.

'Hiro teleported us here,' Sylar responds.

His dark eyes stare penetratingly at her blue ones. His hand slides down her cheek to gently cup her chin.

'Was Bennet telling the truth about my parents?' Sylar asks with a slightly harsh edge.

Elle attempts to look away. The grip on her chin tightens forcing her to meet Sylar's gaze.

'Answer me,' his tone harsh.

'Yes, I knew Arthur was not your father, but I don't know who is,' Elle responds.

Sylar's hand drops to his side. He turns looking at the pitch abyss of sky merging with ocean. Confused thoughts swirl about his head. The innate power inside him stirs processing the information placing the little pieces into a new puzzle. Abruptly he sits. He pushes his bare feet in to the cool sand. He hears the slight rustle of clothes as Elle sits beside him. Sylar can feel her pale gaze like unwanted warmth on his cheek.

'Your father was listed in the information the company had the first time we met at your shop,' Elle begins softly like her gently tone can lessen her compliancy in the lie, in the charade she helped him believe. 'I don't remember who it was, but I know it wasn't Arthur. I would've remembered that.'

Elle watches his profile stare outward at the depthless ocean. The dark makes his brown eyes unreadable. She sits staring at him with time stretching out unbearably slow. Her pale eyes see him swallow past a lump in his throat, and then he turns to her.

His left index finger quickly sweeps past her golden bangs, with his warm touch sliding against the smooth skins beneath. Elle flinches away from his touch. The unexpectedness of it combined with the haunting familiarity is too much. His action stirs painful memories of lying on Level Five's cold concrete feeling unbearable pain as he tried to murder her. Also, it calls to mind discovering her dead Daddy. Fear inexplicable courses through her like her own electric power. She feels her stomach drop away like it was left behind after a sudden fall.

If any of her internally disquiet shows on her face, Sylar does not seem to see it. His own expression remains darkly mask like. She feels his hands push insistently against her shoulders. Elle lets his hands guide her down to the beach. The sand feels cool through the thin material of Sylar's barrowed shirt. Elle feels Sylar straddle her body. Then his face is inches from hers, his gaze distant. She feels their warm breath mixing as he stares unseeingly at her. Those familiar dark eyes tell her something is wrong. She can feel her own blue eyes pleading with him. Her lower lip trembles either from her fear or the sudden cold breeze that sweeps over the beach.

'I've been thinking about us,' his tone softly intimate, and completely at odds with his expression, 'what not having powers meant. Also, about how freedom from Bob and Arthur was good for us, yet it didn't matter. We are the same people without powers or father figures. Your Daddy is dead, yet you remain broken. I don't know who my father is but I still want more powers. This makes all your talk about change, about us, wrong. No one really changes. Not me. Not you.'

'You changed,' Elle responds softy. 'When we met at Pinehurst you were different. You were not the old Sylar anymore. Then at the Canfield house without your powers everything was different.'

'Shh,' Sylar quiets her, 'that was only temporary before I knew Arthur was not my father, before I had my powers back. Neither one of us will ever really change because we are both just damaged goods.'

Elle feels his body shift over top of her. His weight rests painfully on her injured leg.

'You're hurting me,' she gasps.

'I know.'

Elle watches him raise his hand in that familiar gesture. His index finger extends towards her with the other fingers curled inward. Her eyes dart from his hand to his face. A mask of intense concentration mares his familiar features, while his eyes look dull with just a hint of something else in their brown depths. Her forehead feels that familiar sharp cutting pain. Then almost reflexively the fear that was coursing through her changes to blue white lighting. Sylar utters a stifled scream before the electrical current throws him off her diminutive body.

Then she is crying. The tears run away in salty wet paths that the strong ocean wind turns cold. Elle pushes herself into a seated position. Through blurry eyes Elle sees Sylar lying prone a few feet away. His blood stained T-Shirt and dark slacks tattered and burned. Even in the dark ocean night Elle sees his body knitting itself whole. Soon he will wake up or whatever he calls that ability. Elle thinks about trying to run, however with her injured leg that seems impossible.

Should she kill him again? How many times has she done that already? The fear of death, the disappointment of her lover's betrayal, and the pain from releasing that much electricity cause her tears to continue.

Elle sees his hand move. Then he pushes himself to a seated position across from him. Elle's fear of loneliness, of the emotions that she never felt before swirl inside her in unending eddy of sorrow, abandonment, rage and hurt.

That is when she starts screaming, 'Fucking Bastard. How could you do that to me? ME?! I love you! I need you! I've given you everything. My power, my body, everything! And you took it all, even my Daddy. How many times have I helped you, Gabriel Gray? I saved your life in that stupid watch shop. I tried to stop you killing Trevor. I turned off those drugs they were giving you in Odessa. How else could you wake up and fake your death?! I did that to save you! I helped you realize that Arthur was using you. I went with you to get Claire and then Noah. I was shot for you! I would do anything to be with you, anything! I would kill for you! But, no, the great Sylar only cares about powers. You got my power and you fucked me and now you want to kill me. You used me all up and now you're throwing me away. Is that it? Is that all I am to you? Just a worn out toy to be thrown into the trash.'

The whole time the tears kept streaming down her face. When she finishes screaming, the hysterical laughter starts. Her entire body convulses, while neurotic giggles tumble from her lips. Everything is a blur of tears and mad uncontrolled laughing. She pulls her good leg up against her chest. Her slim arms grip it tight against her. Then she buries her face against her knee. Eventually the giggles slow. Then the tears finally stop. Finally the convulsions change to little tremors. She uses her sleeve to wipe her noise and face. Sniffling Elle throws a sideways look at Sylar. He sits a few feet away looking at her. His head tilted slightly to one side like he is looking at some piece of art that requires intense intellectually scrutiny to understand.

He feels his innate power shifting the pieces again. Memories about how the first met, how good it felt to have her in his apartment, in his life, reorder themselves in his mind. Gabriel Gray was not Sylar. He had changed. Throughout the myriad of transitions between Gabriel and Sylar there was one constant in his ever shifting equation. Elle. His beautiful, broken Elle. The woman who tried to save him, who fought for him and almost died for him was always there.

Elle watches his head slowly straighten. Then he pushes himself to all fours and starts crawling toward her. She attempts to scuttle backwards, with her injured leg trailing behind like an anchor. Elle makes it a few feet before the sand bunching up behind her and her injured leg cause her to fall over.

Quickly Sylar closes the distance. Then he pulls himself on top of her again, with his dark eyes piercingly intense. Elle feels him grab her small hands, with their fingers interlocking. He pushes them away from her and pins them to the sand above her head. Elle lays looking up at him as his hot breath brush against her cheek.

Can she kill him, again? The events of the past few hours collapse on her. Their time together in the Canfield house, the shooting, seeing Noah kill Sylar, Noah's house and, now, the beach all the memories overwhelm her. All too much, too tired. She feels a whimper escape her lips. Elle squeezes her eyes shut as Sylar starts to lean in.

Something soft, warm and gentle touches the skin beside her eye. Then the same feathery sensation a little further down. A third gentle touch causes her to open her eyes. She watches Sylar kiss her a fourth time, with each tender caress along the path of her tears. Blue eyes meet brown as he places a fifth kiss on the side of jaw. Then she turns her mouth toward his. Their lips meet ravenously.

After a few moments, Elle feels him pull away. Her breath comes in little gasps. She thrust her head forward seeking his lips, but he leans back. The fear his touch had silenced returns coiling around her heart. She can barely see his lopsided smile.

'Why, Elle?' his question holding numerous meanings and possibilities.

Elle lies beneath him. Panting, heart thundering, she attempts to think, why? Then she just starts babbling, hoping that something she says will make him love her, make him want her, make him need her.

'Because I thought you wanted me. I thought you saw me, and not some company agent, or just some power, but me. Everyone else just wants to use my power, or what I'm willing to do with it, even Daddy. I thought my demon and your devil could dance together. That you'd want someone special like me. Someone that was not just a sheep like the others. Someone that could do things like you, with you. I didn't want to be alone, and you were so powerful and, and. . .', she trails off looking at the his wicked smile.

'You're so my girl,' the words gloating, possessive.

Sylar starts kissing her jaw, working his way down her throat. He releases one of hands. She feels him pulling at the buttons of her shirt. His hand slips inside cupping her breast. The strong nimble fingers message her breast. Then they tug at her hard pink nipple. A throaty moan escapes Elle's lips.

Elle runs her free hand through Sylar's dark hair, which she pulls harshly as Sylar starts kissing down her chest. She feels her breath start to hitch as Sylar trails feathery soft kisses toward her breast. Elle twists his hair hard as he takes her pebbled nipple in his mouth. His tongue flicks at it gently. Then his teeth bite teasingly at it.

Sylar releases her other hand. Then he pulls reluctantly away from Elle's breast. Quickly he pulls the chard blood stained remains of his T-Shirt over his head. Elle pulls herself free from his barrowed dress shirt. Then she rakes her petite hands across his stomach trailing little electric sparks in their wake.

Sylar leans forward and starts kissing her, while he pushes her hands down to his hardness. Her hands grip and rub against it through his slacks. His tongue pushes its way into her mouth. Elle catches it between her teeth. An electric jolt explodes in Elle's mouth causing him to moan in a mixture of pain and ecstasy. He pulls away from her again.

Her blue eyes look wantonly up at him. A red flush covers her pale features. Roughly he pulls her hands to the button of his slacks. She undoes the button, pulls down the zipper and then grabs the hem of his pants and boxes. He helps her pull his pants and boxes halfway down before he kicks them free.

His hands run up her taunt stomach to cup her breast. He messages her breasts, teasing her hard nipples between his thumb and index finger. Elle arches her back thrusting her chest against his hands. She traps her bottom lip between her teeth trying to stifle the wanton sounds issuing from her mouth.

Sylar loves the sounds his Elle makes. The way her blue eyes are squeezed shut, her bottom lip caught between her teeth and he knows she is his.

A sudden cold assaults Elle's breasts as Sylar releases them. His large hands slide down her stomach to her hips. Blue eyes snap open to watch him slowly start to pull her lace black panties down. Then he tugs roughly at them.

Elle screams. Pain radiates upward from her wounded leg, overwhelming everything. She feels little electric currents spark from her fingertips.

Sylar stops. The pained cry stills his desire. Reluctantly he pulls the panties back into place. He had forgotten that she was broken. That he need to fix her. How to fix her?

He tilts his head considering. Elle's face looks ashen, pained. She lays waiting beneath him. A wicked knowing smile spreads across his face. He points his left index finger at the inside of his right forearm. Using his telekinesis he makes a deep cut that runs half the length of his forearm. Blood quickly spills from the wound splattering on Elle's midsection. Sylar leans forward placing his injured arm above the small cut he made on Elle's forehead.

Gently he whispers to her, 'I can fix you.'

Her blue eyes lock with his as she leans forward. He presses his arm against the small wound, almost feeling their blood mix.

Elle feels warmth slowly spread throughout her body. Then an invigorating rush flashes through her lighting quick. Sylar pulls his already healed arm away from her wound.

Next, he kisses her deep and hard. His hands push at her shoulders trapping her to the sand. Then he reaches down to savagely pull the bandage from her leg. Elle makes a sound of discomfort as the medical tape pulls free. Sylar runs his hand against the smooth pale skin beneath the bandage. His hand travels up to her panties. He grips them again. This time he pulls them down slowly across her slim bare legs. Elle watches his dark lustful gaze.

Finished undressing her Sylar tosses the panties away. He leans back on his knees. Elle lays naked and vulnerable before him. Pausing he admires the taunt curves of her body.

'Roll over,' he commands.

Elle hesitates briefly a look of vulnerable curiosity on her face. Elle pushes herself over to stomach. Then she feels his hands on her waist pulling it upward. Her knees slide forward and her hands push the rest of her body up. Supporting herself on her hands and knees Elle throws a look back through her disheveled golden hair to see Sylar kneeling behind her.

A slight moan escapes her lips as her brushes his hardness against her clit. A strong hand pulls her legs a little further apart. Then he grips both side of her hips. With one strong thrust he buries himself in her. Sounds of pleasure escape both their lips.

Slowly he pulls out and then hammers forward. He thrusts deep inside her, pauses and then pulls slowly out. A steady rhythm builds as Elle finds his pace and starts bucking her hips back to meet his thrust. Elle's stomach holds a budding tension. Little sparks already start forming around her fingers, where they shoot off randomly into the sand beneath.

Sylar can feel how much Elle is enjoying his thrusts. He shifts forward leaning over her back to whisper in her ear.

'Your mine, Elle. _Mine_. Say it,' his voice a quite strangled gasp as he keeps thrusting.

Elle emits a strangled cry, before responding, 'I'm yours. _Yours_. . .oh, fuck. . . harder.'

Smiling he slips on hand from her hip and across her stomach. He grips underhanded the hip on the opposite side. This lets him slide his free hand down to her clit. His strong skillful fingers rub and tease at the damp wetness they find. Meanwhile he increases the pace thrusting in hard short strokes.

Unexpectedly Elle collapses forward. Their combined weight too much for her hands to support, she leans on her forearms, which only increases the depths of Sylar's thrusts. Her forearms grind against the cool sand beneath, which helps her withstand the force of Sylar's increasingly vigorous thrusts. She feels his strong arm gripping across the inside of her waist pulling her back to match his movements. The tension in her stomach threatens to overwhelm her, while his hand rubs furiously at her clit.

Sylar can feel himself start to lose control. His thrusts grow erratic. His world consists of pushing his hardness deep into the moaning woman before him. He feels himself close to release when a wave of blue white lighting spreads across the beach.

Sparks shoot from Elle's hands as tension explodes out from her stomach. Waves of pleasure rock her small body. A stream of incomprehensible noises and nonsense words escape her lips.

Sylar sees lighting crack across the beach. Some piece of his brain realizes that he caused this lighting, that he helped create it. Everything else is focused on how impossibly tight Elle's convulsing muscles grip his member. Crying her name he feels himself pulse his release deep inside her. He trusts once more, finishing. He collapses on the beach beside Elle's kneeing form.

He lays painting. Slowly he becomes aware of Elle pulling herself onto his chest. Her blue eyes look up at him as she lies listening to the steady thump of his heart. He wraps her warm body in his arms. Drifting in post-coital warmth he knows Elle is his, his.

After a time he feels Elle shift a little in his arms. Tilting his head he looks at her. Her grip tightens around his waist.

'Sylar,' her voice soft like someone whispering to avoid waking a nighttime predator.

'Yes,' he responds. Enjoying the look of concern she is giving him.

'Why?' a faint hint of fear in her voice.

He looks at her considering for a moment. Then he says, 'From the first time we met to now, you were the only one that cared, and that did anything to help me. In everything that happened you were always there. I just never realized how much you had done. I did not think you could really love me. That _you _cared and that it was not just an act, and. . . because you're special like me. I realized that if I killed you then I might change into something I did not want to become. I finally understood that I'm human and need to be loved like everyone else does.'

He feels her nestle her face against his chest.

'I love you,' she whispers.

'I know,' he responds before pulling her into a deep slow kiss.

Eventually they break apart and Elle settles comfortable against his chest. Contented Elle grips him tighter. She does not want him to go anywhere. He wants her, someone wants her and right now she tells herself that is all that matters. It does not matter if he killed Daddy, that he kills people and steals their powers. For the first time in her life Elle knows someone wants her, someone cares about her, why else would he call her 'mine?'

'What now,' she asks.

'Well, we need to get cleaned up and then take care of Arthur,' he responds.

'Ok,' she responds.

Sylar remains silent for a moment considering. Whatever he feels about Elle he cannot permit her to keep deceiving him.

'Elle, don't ever lie to me, again. Do you understand?' his tone suddenly hard.

'Yes.'

He holds her for a few more moments. The warmth from their bodies and his contentment tempt him to lie on the beach indefinitely. He can hear her breath starting to steady. A streak of pink cuts across the horizon like an angry livid scar, which means he cannot lay with Elle sleeping in his arms. They have to move. He shifts a little beneath her, which causes her to wake.

'Have you ever been skinny dipping?' he asks.

'I really don't like swimming all that much. . .hey,' she exclaims as he pushes her off his chest. He stands quickly. Powerful hands grip her wrists and pull her to her feat.

'No, Sylar wait. . . Put me down!' he picks her up in a fireman's carry, already running toward the ocean. Her hands beat futilely against him. Their laughter mixes in the pre-dawn light as he wades into the morning surf.

* * *

_Bennet's Apartment, Washington DC-Present Day _

'What do you want, Noah? Where's Elle?,' Syalr demands. When Bennet remains seated rubbing the back of his head, he steps closer yelling, 'Tell me!'

'Help. I want your help,' Bennet responds.

The response completely different from anything Sylar expected. He stands glaring darkly at Noah. Thoughts about their long convoluted history flood his mind.

'Help with what?' he asks.

'Killing Danko,' Bennet responds.

'Why would you help me do that?' Sylar asks.

'May I get up?' Bennet gestures at the mess around him.

Taking a few steps back Sylar casts his gaze about the apartment. He spots a leather recliner sitting opposite the TV. Reaching out with his telekinesis he turns to face Noah. Watching his old enemy warily Sylar sits in the seductively comfortable recliner.

Bennet watches the black clad killer rearranged his living room future. Cautiously Bennet stands, making sure to avoid the broken picture frame's little glass slivers as he pushes himself from the floor. Grapping a wooden chair from the kitchenette, he spins it to face Sylar. Then he sits rubbing his aching head.

'Again, why would you help me?' Sylar demands.

'Because Danko is out of control. Nathan attempted to remove him a few days ago. Danko shot out a window and then threw Nathan out of it,' Bennet states.

'More's the pity, but why work with me?' Sylar asks.

'Without Nathan, I am unable to keep Claire safe. Danko will go after Claire to hurt Nathan, which is something I will not allow. If I move against Danko personally, some repercussions may harm Claire. I know you want to kill Danko, and I need him out of the way,' Bennet responds. Inside he is thinking that working with the monster before him is the best way to keep Claire safe.

'So Nathan went out the window and flew away?', Sylar asks.

'Yes, Danko did not know the Senator had a power,' Bennet says.

'Hmm,' Sylar pauses trying to figure Bennet's angle, 'while I would enjoy killing Danko, I want my Elle and child back.'

Sylar did not realize how integral she had become to his life. The past several weeks together changed things. She was always within a few feet of him. She always had an opinion to express, some childish want or some need she wanted him to satisfy. Now, without her the quite solitude was frustrating him. Every few minutes his would think about where she was, how he failed to keep his Elle safe, and how he wanted her with him. Besides the killing was less fun without an audience, without someone to remind him how special he was.

'Yes, rescuing them is part of the deal,' Bennet says.

'And what is the rest of it,' Sylar probes.

'Your part is simple. Rebel and I will help you get inside. You kill Danko. Rebel opens Elle's cell. You get Elle and leave. If agents get in your way. . .,' Noah's voice trails off.

'And what will you being doing while I rescue Elle?'

'There are prisoners that some others will free, while you're taking care of Elle. I'm going to discreetly help them,' Bennet states.

'Others?'

'Yes, others,' Noah's tone stating that part of the discussion was closed.

Sylar pauses to consider the deal Bennet is offering. He can feel his power shifting puzzle pieces about creating questions that need answering.

'How do I know this is not a trick?' Sylar probes.

'Because Elle helped you kill Sue Landers a few weeks ago. You know I'm not lying,' Noah states.

Smiling at the memory Sylar asks 'Who's Rebel?'

'Someone who can turn off the heat sensors, loop the cameras and lock down the building. Aside from that you don't need to know,' Bennet states.

'Someone with a power then,' Sylar smirks his response.

Bennet sits glaring at him self-righteously.

'No other requests. I can just take Elle and go about my business?' Sylar probes looking for what type of response Bennet will give. He knows Bennet will not wish for him to continue his work. That Bennet and Rebel may look to turn his rescue attempt to their advantage.

'If I ask you to stop killing people and taking their powers, would you?'

'No.'

'You're a monster,' Noah says disgustedly.

Laughing Sylar quips, 'This from the man who kidnapped, tagged, brain washed or killed untold hundreds for The Company. Yes, I am the only monster here. You know more people are afraid of the man in horned rimmed glasses than me? Right.'

'Only, because they don't know you.'

'Perhaps. . .so Elle and I leave and then what?' Sylar asks.

Noah looks at Sylar silently. He wants nothing more than to kill Sylar again, even though it will do no good. A desire for revenge still burns for what this man did to his Claire.

'Yeah, then we go back to old times with you hunting me, right?' Sylar asks.

'Something like that.'

With a shrug, Sylar asks, 'When do we do this?'

'Two days from now Danko has a big operation planned. Most of the agents will leave the night before for their locations across the country, so tomorrow night. Meet me in the parking garage at Building 26. It is at-'

Sylar interrupts, 'Yes, I know where it is. I assume that I'm to arrive invisible?'

'Yes.'

Sylar stands and throws a questioning look at Noah, who stares back blankly at him, before saying, 'Oh, there is a woman with Elle, Tracy Strauss. Let her out too, alive preferable.'

Sylar starts toward the door, when he throws a wicked look over his shoulder, 'I'll think about it.'

Then he pulls the wooden door open, steps outside and lets it hang open behind him.

Noah sits watching the open door considering Angela's dream. Their plan with Rebel and what part Sylar and Elle play in it.

* * *

_Next Time: Building 26 goes down, Sylar reunites with Elle and Danko gets. . ._

_Any comments or reviews are appreciated. While I knew what happened on the beach throughout the fic, writing it was much harder than I thought. Also, I changed the characterization a little to show an earlier time in Sylar/Elle's relationship. Let me know if it worked. Yes, Noah/Rebel's plan is a little mysterious, which permits a few surprises. _


	10. Chapter 10

__

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes, I'm not making any money writing this, etc,

_This update features building 26 going down. _

_M for sexual innuendo and violence. _

_Thanks for all the reviews._

_This first scene takes place before Noah visits Elle. It's out of order so consider it a flashback. _

* * *

_Conference Room, Building 26- Before Visiting Tracy's Cell_

Ring.

Noah fishes inside his coat. He hand closes around his phone. Pulling it out he looks at the display.

'Excuse me,' he says. Standing he walks purposefully toward the door. The gathered agents watch him curiously.

'Bennet,' Danko calls out. Frowning he watches the bespeckled man continue silently toward the door.

Ignoring Danko, Bennet pulls the door open and steps into the hall. After wondering a few feet from the door, and making sure that no appears to be eavesdropping, Noah flips the phone open. Its high pitched ring finally ends.

'I told you not to call me here,' his voice gruff, annoyed.

Coolly Angela responds, 'There's been a new development.'

'What's so important it could not wait another hour or two, until I'm out of here?'

'Two days from now Danko is going to kill Tracy and Elle before you can stop him, I've seen it.'

While the words might have touched Noah once, the death of those two killers weighed against his Claire, meant nothing to him now, 'Angela there are more important things at stake here. While I have nothing against Tracy and Elle is. . . she's misguided but the child inside her it. . . We can't have another one like him.'

'Noah,' Angela's voice commanding, 'listen. If Elle and the baby die, the last vestiges of his humanity will slip away. He will destroy the world. I've seen that too. We must stop Danko from killing them.'

His exasperation clear, 'Things are arranged for two days from now. It won't be easy to remove Danko in that short a time or change the plan. There're too many moving parts right now for such a major change.'

'We don't have to really change much. Just go talk to Elle before you leave.'

Confused Noah asks, 'Why?'

'Because he will find you tonight.'

'Who?'

He listens to the silence on the other end.

'Sylar,' he finally says.

'Get him to kill Danko for us,' Angela states.

'Why not kill him?'

Angela's scoff sounds clearly through the phone, 'Because you'll die if you try that.'

Noah remains silent for a moment his thoughts drifting toward Claire. Exhaling hard Noah agrees, 'Fine. I'll see Elle before leaving. Anything else, Angela.'

'Bye, Noah.'

The line goes dead. Noah snaps the phone closed. Dropping it back in his pocket, he cast a glance toward the conference room door. Then he turns away. His steps take him down the hallway toward the holding area, and Elle.

* * *

_Park Garage Below Building 26-Two Days Later_

Noah Bennet glances about the deserted parking garage. A few scatted cars broke up the desolate concrete landscape. They rose from the pavement like multi-colored rock formations catching the last ray from a dying desert sun. Noah's hard eyes sweep the garage again, noting nothing. Looking down at his watch he feels a tap on his shoulder. Startled, he turns, with his hand reflexively gripping his gun.

Nothing.

His blue eyes dart quickly about the empty space behind him. Again, a gentle tap impacts against his shoulder. Spinning he pulls his gun free. Gripping it tightly he looks about the deserted parking garage.

Dark, gloating laughter with a slightly maniacal tint erupts behind him. Noah's muscles tense involuntary against the sound of madness and murder. Slower this time, he turns to again see nothing.

Then a familiar disembodies voice says, 'That look was so worth it, Noah. I thought you might die from fright.'

'Funny, _Gabriel._'

'Oh, it is, _Glasses_. Ready?' the voice asks.

Swallowing the angry bile that suddenly rose into his throat, Noah grunts an affirmative. Then he walls quickly toward the stairway door that leads up into the building proper. His thoughts distracted. They keep returning to Claire, to what Angela said and to how much he detests the invisible monster accompanying him.

* * *

_Building 26 _

Noah looks around the headquarters room. With years of training and physical condition, he walks quietly among the empty chairs and desks, with only the computers quite machine hum disrupting the silence. Noah stops outside Danko's office. A dim light shines underneath the closed door. Standing beside the door frame, Noah reaches out and raps strongly on the glass paned door.

'It's Bennet. There's been a new development you need to be aware.'

A brief silence followed by a rustlings sound like papers moving against each other, then Danko's voice, 'Come in.'

Bennet opens the door. Making a flourishing gesture with his hand Bennet indicates for Sylar to go inside.

His voice slightly hushed not knowing where Sylar was, 'Remember our deal.'

Then the door seems to close itself. Turning Noah heads back across the room toward the hallway that will led him to the general prisoner containment area. He tries to clear his thoughts. Tries to focus on what he is doing. Tries to push Claire from his mind.

Sylar steps into the spartanly furnished office, and pulls the door closed behind him. Danko sits behind a wooden desk. His gaze confused as he slips his hand below his desk. Smirking to himself, Sylar walks across the office. Slowly he sits in a leather chair across from Danko. Closing his dark eyes, Sylar lets the invisibility slip away from him. As it does, his eyes open and focus on Danko.

Danko's arm blurs as it rises from below his desk. A small dark semi-automatic pistol tracks toward Sylar. Flicking his writs idly Sylar rips the gun from Danko's white knuckled grip. The gun clatters harmlessly against the far wall. Then Sylar telekinetically pulls Danko to his feet.

'I've actually given some thought to this. Wither I want to hurt you first or just kill you,' Sylar states causally.

'Get stuffed, you disgusting sub-human thi-,' Danko's venomous words cut off as Sylar shifts his attention from lifting Danko up to squeezing his throat.

'Yes, yes. Bluff and bluster,' Sylar's word tried. Thoughts about how all his victims say the same things. They either beg him to stop or curse him as a monster. None of them understand how special his is or how special he is making them through their death.

Smiling happily Sylar informs Danko, 'Let me show you something I learned in Richmond.'

Sylar points his left index finger at Danko. The other man dissolves. His body implodes into a few handfuls of dust that scatter like cigarette ash across his desk.

'Interesting.'

Tilting his head Sylar feels that familiar tick, tick as his mind process what he just accomplished. His internal revelry interrupted by thoughts of Elle. Thoughts of his child within her.

Pushing himself to his feet, Sylar walks toward the door. A quick thought sends it clattering into the room beyond all twisted wood and broken glass. He steps across the threshold to find the room beyond still dark, with only the machine hum intruding on the quite.

'It's done,' his words stated to the air and the invisible presence that he suspects watches him.

The various computer monitors awake. White letters scroll across their black screens. Sylar watches the message with dark curious eyes.

_RIGHT HAND DOOR, DOWN THE HALL, FIRST LEFT, SECOND RIGHT, METAL DOOR. _

After the message runs its course, it begins again. Smiling Sylar starts toward the room's far right door. Thoughts about Elle and about what a nice power Rebel must have swirl about his head.

* * *

_Tracy's Cell, Building 26_

Elle sighed again. This place was so boring, now that Popsicle had stopped talking to her, again. The unbearable heat only made things worse. Plus it felt like forever since someone had brought her any water. Another sigh escapes her parched lips.

An unexpected metal and metal wrenching sound reverberates around the room. Elle's blue eyes snap to the door. The metal frame emits a fatigued groaning sound. Then it disappears with a clattering boom into the hall.

Elle stands. Pulse quickening, heart beating a hopeful fast beat, she steps toward the door. A familiar black clad figure appears silhouetted by the twisted metal doorframe.

Then she's running. Her arms slide around Sylar's neck. She starts kissing his lips, his face, his neck. She feels strong hands squeeze her hips, pulling her upward. Her feet push off the ground. Slim toned legs wrap around his taunt waist. Two strong hands grip her to him. Elle rests her head on his shoulder nuzzling, kissing his neck.

'You're wet,' his voice surprised.

'Hmm,' Elle hums against his throat, 'nice to see you too.'

She feels him shift her a little. Then his lips brush softly against her cheek.

Sylar whispers, 'I missed you.'

Twisting her head a little, Elle kisses his jaw. She tastes the wet saltiness of his skin. Her lips part as he turns into the kiss. His teeth catching her bottom lip, nipping gently. Releasing it, his tongue slips warm, hungry into her mouth. Pressing against him Elle moans into the kiss.

A haughty demanding voice interrupts their reunion, 'Hey, what's going on? Elle? Elle? What was that? I can't turn around.'

Reluctantly Elle pulls away their kiss, with her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

'Who's this?' she hears Sylar ask.

'Oh, it's just Popsicle,' Elle answers. Murmuring softly she tells him, 'She has a power.'

'Hmm.'

Elle hears what sounds like metal clatter against the concrete floor behind her. Then the sounds of movement.

'Thanks,' Tracy says.

'I'm going to put you down,' Sylar states softly.

Shaking her head Elle tightens her arms around his neck, however his hands release her. Elle feels her sweat slicked body slide down his torso until her feet touch the floor. Her wet hair plastered lankly to her head as she finally steps away from him. Elle notices the curious look he gives her like his dark eyes are looking for some new characteristic or feature. He blinks. His large hand reaches for hers. Softly he grips her hand. Then he pulls her toward the door.

'Hey, what about me?' Tracy calls after them.

'Just be glad you're alive, Popsicle,' Elle shouts as she follows Sylar into the hall.

* * *

_Outside Building 26 _

Approaching his car Sylar squeezes Elle's hand. Pausing she turns to look questioning at him. Those clear blue eyes with their fake innocence mesmerize him. How could he ever thing of killing her?

'What?' her question causes him to look away. He turns slightly to look at the building they just escaped from. Gesturing for her to follow his gaze, his hand rises until it points at the building.

Index finger extended in that familiar gesture, and with a self satisfied pride he says, 'See my new trick?'

The building seems to shimmer for a moment. Then the frame starts falling inward. A slight whooshing the only sound as Building 26 dissolves. It disappears into dust, which rushes outward from the newly empty space.

Sylar uses his telekinesis to create a bubble around them. The building's ash like remains quickly surrounds them.

He feels Elle clutch his outstretched arm. She pulls it down, bending it so that her hands wrap around his, with only his index finger exposed.

'Amazing,' her voice happy, wanton.

Sylar watches as she takes his finger into her mouth. She bites it gently before swirling her tongue against the tip. Her blue eyes promising things.

'Get in,' he commands.

Elle shocks him with her mouth, which causes him to hiss painfully. Smiling she releases him. She walks quickly around the car and gets in. Flinging his door open Sylar slips inside and starts the engine.

Turning the headlights on, he accelerates down the street through Building 26's dusty remains.

* * *

_Next Time: Sylar, Elle and a cheap hotel room. . ._

_I have finished the last chapter and epilogue. I'm editing them and hope to have both posted in a day or two. _

_The scene between Noah and Angela caused me fits. Literally I finished writing every other scene before reworking it. I just could never get it right. . .or at least so that I liked it. It works kind of. Anyway, the next chapter and epilogue will make up for it. _

_Reviews are appreciated. _


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes, I'm not making any money writing this, etc, _

_Reviews are appreciated_

_Sylar, Elle, and a cheap hotel room =STONG M. _

_Really, what do you expect a psychopath serial killer to do after he rescues his pregnant sociopath girlfriend? He. . ._

* * *

_Camelot Motel- Somewhere Outside DC-Later That Night _

The dusty car pulls slowly into the parking lot. Headlights illuminate a middle aged man walking up the hotel's exposed stairway. Reaching the second level's open veranda the man walks down a few doors, before stopping before one. Clutching the paper bag with one hand, he fishes in his pants pocket. After a moment he pulls out a key. Unlocking the door he walks inside, closing it behind him. The headlights extinguish.

A sudden unexpected knock jars the man. Setting the whiskey bottle down next to the drink he was pouring, the middle aged man walks toward the door.

His voice rough with years of smoking, 'Who is it?'

'Room service,' a female voice answers seductively.

'Sure,' he responds disbelieving. Still, he unlocks the door. Slowly he pulls it open, until the security chain pulls taunt. His green eyes roam over a small pretty blonde. He is surprised how attractive she is for a working girl at a place like this.

'How long have you had your room?' she asks.

His face must have displayed his puzzlement because she flashes him a seductive smile before saying, 'Please.'

Smiling despite some inner warning that the situation is all wrong, he answers, 'I just got it this evening. I've only be inside a few minutes.'

'Good,' she smiles again, 'because only new guests get room service.'

The door swings violently backward. Its wooden edge strikes him hard. He feels his nose crack as he stumbles to the floor. Blinking against his watery eyes, he sees a black clad man standing behind the woman. The dark stranger's arm is extended toward him, with his index finger pointed. In front of him the blonde woman uses her small hands to guide the man's arm.

Just before the middle aged man starts yelling, he hears the blonde say, 'Right there.'

Then the man feels like things are falling apart around him, as if he was dissolving.

Elle bolts inside, while Sylar steps casually over the man's ashen remains. Elle makes a bee line toward the bathroom. He attempts to follow her. She reaches the bathroom door says shower, and then slams it in his face. Looking about the room, Sylar notices that the front door is still open. He closes it with a thought.

Also, he notices a brown paper bag wrapped around a whiskey bottle sitting on the nightstand. Sylar pushes it along the nightstand, until it falls with a clatter into the trash. Then he sprawls across the bed. Unable to spot the remote, Sylar turns the TV on with his mind. Idly he begins flipping channels. Finally settling on a news station he hears the shower kick on. Sylar listens to the hissing splash of water, while not really playing attention to the news anchor.

His thoughts are about Elle. How she suggested they find an occupied room to avoid checking in some place. He suggested they could just break in to some hotel, but Elle said it was a bad idea. She kept returning to the point that the hotel may rent the room, with the guest arriving at the most inconvenient moment. Also, Elle kept going on about how she did not want to anywhere else tonight, if they had to change rooms, and how she really wanted a shower. Aside from arguing about the room, she did not tell him much. Just that she was Okay and would he drive faster.

He starts flipping the channels again, when he hears Elle yelp. He pushes away from the bed and walks quickly to the door. Knocking with one powerful hand he hears the shower stop.

He knocks again, 'Elle?'

'ELLE?'

'What?' her response exasperated.

'Are you alright?' he inquires.

'Yes, it's just. . .just I've never been good with water and. ..and my condition makes it harder. I'm fine.'

Drawing in a deep breath Sylar answers, 'Okay, I'm right outside, if you need anything.'

'I'm fine,' her response filters through the door.

Sylar turns away from the door. His dark gaze surveys the room again. They observe a queen sized bed, a cheap wooden nightstand, a worn laminate topped table and a pair of dilapidated straight back chairs. The stained off white walls add to the cheap motel feel.

Sylar walks to the bed. He takes a seat facing the TV, with the bed sagging a little against his weight. Once more, he starts flipping the channels.

The bathroom door opens. Elle walks to the bed. She has a white towel wrapped around her, while she rubs at her hair with a second. Elle sits on the bed next to Sylar, while continuing to rub her long golden hair dry.

'Anything on?' she asks.

Elle feels his eyes on her like dark fire. She slides her blue eyes away from the TV screen. Sapphire eyes meet chocolate ones. Her hands still as she looks at him.

Then he is on top of her. The towel slips to the floor as her hands slide around Sylar's neck. Their lips meet. He kisses her hard. Warm, deep, aggressive kisses. Elle opens her mouth against his. She scrapes her tongue against his teeth, slides it against his tongue.

Sylar slides a hand underneath the towel wrapped around her. His hand slides up Elle's taunt flank. Palming her breast, he starts kissing down her neck. His free hand tugs the towel open, which reveals her nakedness beneath.

Elle feels his mouth on her throat kissing and biting. His hand palms and presses against her breast. She feels his strong fingers tugging at her hard nipple, while his mouth slowly trails kisses down her chest.

Sylar starts kissing down Elle's taunt stomach. Reaching her navel, he slips his tongue inside. Slowly he whirls it around. He feels Elle slide her hands in to his hair clutching hard. Then he grabs her small hips with his strong hands. He pulls her toward the edge of the bed. Slipping of it himself, he kneels before her. His mouth leaves her navel and starts kissing slowly down her lower abdomen.

Elle drapes her legs over Sylar's powerful shoulders as he pulls her to the edge of the bed. She feels his kisses track closer to her sex. Unexpectedly they stop. One of his hands releases her hip and slides like warm electric fire down her outer thigh. Her curiosity at what he plans abruptly halts as his tongue laps warm and wet against her sex. Elle runs her hands through Sylar's dark hair, while attempting to push his face against her.

She feels his tongue tracing random patterns against her clit. Little moans start deep in her throat, which fail to expresses the warm electric pleasure building inside her. Then he stops. Elle whimpers not understanding. She was enjoying that.

'Sylar, don't st-AHH,' her words a husky wantonness that end as she feels his finger slip inside her.

The she feels his mouth sucking at her nub, while his finger slides inside her. Lustfully she bucks her hips against him, while he slides a second finger inside. Moans escape her mouth as his tongue starts licking her over stimulated clit. His fingers slide and push against the walls of sex, which causes Elle to start saying his name amongst her moans. Then the warmth that was building inside her uncoils like lighting quick fire. She feels her body go taunt as she squeezes her eyes shut.

Panting Elle feels Sylar pull away. Her legs slide limply to the floor like. Fighting against the mind numbing afterglow, Elle opens her eyes. She sees that Sylar has already discarded his shirt, with his hands work to unbuckle his pants.

Sylar stands over Elle. She lays stretched out before him. Her back pressed to the bed, with her legs hang over the edge. As he starts removing his pants, he sees her blue eyes open. They look lustfully at him. He lets his pants and boxers slide to the floor. Sylar steps over them. He bends down, which lets him slide his hands up Elle's slim legs. Stopping at her hips he grips them tight as he lifts them away from the bed. Warm smooth legs slide around his waist. He watches Elle arch her back against the bed, while pushing her hips up against him.

His hands slide from her small hips to her slim thighs. Gripping the outside of Elle's thighs, he pulls her legs up over his shoulders. Elle shimmies back onto the bed with Sylar following her. He kneels on the bed now, while she lays stretched out before him.

Elle repositions herself a little letting her legs slide further past his shoulders. Elle feels his hardness pressed against the inside of her thigh. She feels one of his hands clutch her hip. Elle sees Sylar's other hand hold his erect member. Her blue eyes meet his as he rubs his hardened tip against her entrance.

Sylar presses himself against Elle's wetness. Her sapphire eyes watch him, while she traps her lower lip between her small white teeth. With a slight gasp, he slides deeper inside her. He watches Elle press her head back against the bed. Her eyes half close and roll back in her head.

Kneeling on the bed, Sylar starts thrusting against her. His position above her permits deep powerful thrusts with his hips. He watches Elle squirm and buck against him. His hands grip her hips hard. He pulls her against him in time with his thrusts.

Sylar watches as she slides one small hand down between her legs. He enjoys watching Elle's slim fingers work furiously on her own clit. He feels her fingers brush against his hard member as he slides into her. The little throaty noises she makes combined with her naked writhing body is too much. He feels himself near the edge. Fanatically he increases the rhythm. He slams again and again against her small body. He feels himself about to release, when her sex grips him tightly. Vaguely he is aware of her calling his name. The sensations are too much. Sylar thrusts hard against her before he feels himself pulse his release deep inside her petite body. He finishes with her name on his lips. Sated he collapses forward against her. Dimly he feels her legs slide away from his shoulders.

They lie their together all sweat soaked tangled limps for a few minutes. Then Sylar leads Elle through her second shower of the night. Afterward they lay naked on the sheets. His head pillowed between her breasts. Elle runs a lazy hand through his dark hair as she looks at him.

'Elle.'

'Yes,' she answers.

'When you were at. ..when we were separated. Did. . .how's the baby?' the uncharacteristic uncertainty confuses Sylar. Since losing Elle, his thoughts are more about her and their baby than powers. He never really considered the idea he would have a child. Now that he might, the thought of the child keeps intruding on his mind. It is his, his child and no one will take it from him again.

'What?' he asks.

Elle just lies their looking at him, with her blue eyes different, brighter.

'Everything's fine,' she answers. 'They had some doctors examine me. That's how they found out about I was pregnant. Everything's fine.'

Sylar asks, 'Did the doctor's say anything about how your ability may affect the baby?'

Shaking her head Elle states, 'They didn't have a clue, but if I've kept it this long they think it maybe like me or that it's immune or something like that.'

'Good. Good. Umm. . .when we in New York your power. You couldn't control your power but now. . .' Sylar probes.

Elle slides her hand through his hair again, before slipping it down to cup his face. Then she says, 'I was scared and I've never had the greatest control. You know that. I'm better now. . . just don't leave me, again.'

This seems to satisfy him because he quiets. Elle starts running her hand through his hair, again. Then suddenly she stops.

'Sylar.'

'Hmm.'

Curious she asks, 'When I was with Popsicle, she mentioned something about Nathan being behind all this. Is that true?'

'Yeah,' Sylar responds, 'he's responsible for Danko and the Building 26 stuff.'

With a smile she asks, 'Can I ask you do something for me?'

* * *

_Outside Nathan Petrelli's Senate Offices-The Next Week _

Nathan hustles down the steps into the waiting limo. His assistant already has the door open. Quickly he slips inside. His assistant closes the door behind him. Taking a depth breath, Nathan relaxes against the plush leather seat. He feels the limo glide slowly into the hectic DC traffic.

Cars slip past his window. They become an unremarkable blur of shapes and colors. His thoughts focus on tomorrow's meeting with the Senate Ethics Committee. His mind is so distracted that he fails to notice the car slowing. Then it pulls gentle next to the curb. Also, Nathan fails to initially catch what his driver said. He heard the words, however did not note what they were.

'Hmm, what?' Nathan quires.

'I was wrong, Senator,' his dark haired drive states.

'About what,' Nathan's response puzzled by the odd rejoinder.

'About me killing you,' the driver replies, 'instead she will.'

Then the rear passenger side door opens. A small blonde woman slides nimbly inside, pulling the door closed behind her.

'Hi, Nathan,' the blonde says.

He slides across the plush leather away from petite intruder. Nathan tugs sharply on the driver's side door handle. Nothing happens.

A dementedly pleased smile crosses the blondes face as she says, 'Bye, Nathan.'

'Wait, I'm a Sen-' he voice cuts off in an inhuman wail as blue lighting courses through him. Imperceivably quick his skin redness, blisters, cracks and finally blackens. His wail lasts only a few seconds before his entire body becomes a blackened husk nestled against the car door. An unbearable odor permeates the small space. Charred meat with that sickening human sent combines with an electric ozone stench.

Coughing into her hand, Elle says, 'Time to go, dear.'

'Definitely,' Sylar replies. He pushes the driver's door open. Stepping outside Sylar breathes deeply from the cool evening air. He hears Elle open her door. A few seconds later her small warm hand slides into his.

'Where to now?' he asks.

Elle looks distractedly away for a second. Her brow furrows, while she traps her bottom lip between her teeth. Then her bright otherworldly smile returns.

'California's nice this time of year,' her tone hinting at something else.

'Oh.'

'Yeah, I know just the place too. It's near San Diego. . .'

* * *

_Only the epilogue left, which will wrap up some of the loose ends. _


	12. Epilogue

_Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes, I'm not making any money writing this, etc, _

_Reviews are appreciated_

_M for language, violence and lots of death._

_This chapter assumes that Peter goes on his little time traveling spree in 'I Am Become Death.' The following is what should have happened or did happen in this story line. _

* * *

_The Bennet's Former Home, Costa Verde, CA- Four Years In The Future_

Cautiously Peter approaches the house. His recent encounters with Claire and Mohinder make him wary of this new future. Peter knocks on the door, while creating blue hot fire in his other hand. The wooden door swings inward. An unexpected sight causes Peter to extinguish his flames.

'Uncle Peter,' the boy's excited cry rings about the entry way.

'Hey,' Peter's response confused. Was this cute boy Sylar's kid?

'Daddy's making waffles. Do you want some?' the cute blue shirted boy asks.

Lacking any idea about what was going on Peter agrees. Slipping inside Peter closes the door behind him. Peter notices a well kept house as he follows the boy towards the kitchen. He keeps looking around for photos but only finds ones of the boy. Peter wonders who the child's mother might be.

'Hey, Peter,' that familiar voice calls to him from behind the kitchen island, 'nice to see you, again.'

'Sylar,' Peter responds to the dark haired man busying himself about the stove.

'Would you like some waffles, Peter?'

'Sure,' the young Pettrelli responds.

Peter watches the boy walk over toward the kitchen island, where his small frame barely permits him to pull himself into a wooden chair. Once seated across from Sylar, Peter notices the boy's obvious resemblance. Also, the boy's features hint maddeningly at someone else, someone familiar, however it remains elusively mysterious.

Turning in his seat the boy looks at Peter. The boy's head tilts slightly to one side before he asks, 'Uncle Peter, where's your scar?'

'What?' bewilderment covers Peter's unmarred face.

'Noah,' Sylar calls out as he turns off the stove, 'that's not really your Uncle Peter. That's a different Uncle Peter.'

'Daddy?' Noah asks confused by how someone could be Uncle Peter and not Uncle Peter.

Two large hands pull Noah from his seat. Then they gentle place him atop the kitchen island. Sylar leans in close to his son, so that Peter can barely make out his words.

'Now, some people are going to join us in a minute. I want you to stay here, and not move. Ok?' Sylar instructs his son.

Noah looks at his dad. He shrugs his little shoulders. Sometimes Daddy knows things that do not make sense and Daddy gets upset if Noah fails to do what his told.

'Ok,' Noah responds. 'Daddy?'

'Yes, Noah.'

'Where's Mo-' his words lost in a thunders cacophony of noise.

The sound of breaking wood and glass fill the house, which is followed by the sound of glass crunching under booted feet. Whirling around Peter sees the brown haired Claire and a confident looking Knox enter the kitchen.

'Sylar,' Claire hisses out.

'Claire,' he responds.

'What's going on?' Peter asks.

Eyes wide, smiling as he takes deep invigorating breaths Knox states boldly, 'We're here to kill Sylar.'

'Oh,' Peter's responds, 'Umm. . .what's with the breathing?'

Impossible Knox's smile widens, 'He's afraid.'

Sylar shakes his head, 'No, I'm not.'

Knox stalks toward the kitchen island. In a gloating voice he says, 'Not you. The boy. I can feel it.'

'How about me?' a cool female voice quires from the study doorway.

'What?' Knox stops mid stride, with his eyes snapping toward the study.

Incandescent blue light illuminates the kitchen. Knox's piercing scream reverberates about the house. Then it fades. That sickening smell of charred meat and ozone overwhelm the comforting breakfast smells of waffles and coffee.

Claire turns to run. An invisible force catches her after a few strides. Straining desperately against the force that holds her, Claire feels her body slowly pulled back into the kitchen. Then she spins about to face the people she hates the most.

'Claire,' Sylar breaths out tiredly, 'what did I tell you last time you tried this?'

Claire remains silent. Her blue eyes lock on Peter. Her gaze pleads for help one moment then switches to hatred the next. Confused Peter stands looking at her.

Elle walks toward her son. She slides on hand protectively around his small shoulders.

'Claire, we can't have you trying to hurt our son,' Elle says.

Scoffing Claire responds loudly, 'Shut up, you insane sociopathic bitch. If you weren't such a who-'

Claire's words stop. Her body dissolves into a fine ashen dust.

Everyone stops.

Everyone looks at the little ash pile that was once Claire Bennet.

Peter yells, 'WHAT DID YOU DO?'

Shaking his head back and forth with his puzzlement displayed plainly, Sylar responds, 'Nothing. I didn't do anything.'

Peter stands there looking incredulously at Sylar.

Then a chipper little boy states, 'Mean lady, go bye, bye.'

The three adults suddenly focus their attention on Noah. He looks at them with an innocent not understanding look.

'WHAT DID HE DO?' Peter yells at Noah.

Elle hugs her son. Her arms wrapping protectively around him as she tells Peter, 'Don't yell at my son.'

'SHUT UP,' Peter screams incensed by the death of his niece.

Elle watches her son extend his left hand toward Peter, with his index finger pointing accusingly. Then Peter dissolves into a powdery dust.

'Not Uncle Peter, go bye, bye.'

After a second, Elle takes Noah's little hand into hers. She clasps it tightly to her, while her blue eyes explore her son's dark not quite so innocent gaze.

'Elle,' Sylar intrudes.

'I know, dear,' she responds keeping her eyes on her son.

'We need to talk about this,' Sylar says as he moves around the island toward his family.

'Yeah,' Elle responds, 'but does it explain why the neighbor's dog disappeared.'

'The one that kept getting in our trash?' Sylar asks.

'Yes.' Elle directs the next statements to little Noah, 'Do you remember when Mommy found you outside by the trash?'

Noah nods in response.

'You told Mommy that the doggy went 'bye, bye.' Did you make the doggy go 'bye, bye'?'

Noah nods, again.

Elle presses a kiss against the top of her son's head. Then resting her head there she looks across the kitchen. Blue eyes take in the Knox's charred remains along with the ashen ones of Peter and Claire.

'What a mess,' she says.

'Hmm,' Sylar responds.

Shifting her gaze to Sylar, Elle asks, 'Well. . .we should do something else for breakfast, so who wants Slushies?'

Noah excitedly shouts his agreement.

Sylar looks at her.

'Ok, who wants ice cream?'

Again, Noah shouts his agreement.

Sylar raises an eyebrow at her.

'Fine,' a resigned tone in her voice, 'who wants IHOP?'

For a third time, Noah agrees happily.

'I'll get the keys,' Sylar approves.

His thoughts pull the keys across the room towards his outstretched hand. He catches them, while Elle carries Noah across the kitchen toward the door. Sylar follows his wife and child to their ruined front door. Seeing it he sighs knowing he has another honey do.

Elle leads them down the short walk toward the mini-van parked in the drive. As she walks Elle talks quietly to her son, 'Noah.'

'Yes, Mommy,' the boy responds.

'First, never make Mommy or Daddy go 'bye, bye.' Ok?'

'Ok,' Noah says his disappointment clear.

'Now, it's Ok to make other people go 'bye, bye', especially if their last name is Pettrelli.'

'Yes, Mommy,' his tone happy like a child given permission to play with a favorite toy.

Elle hears the car unlock. Balancing Noah on one hip, she reaches out with the opposite hand, which she uses to slide the van door open. Her strong small hands grip Noah's waist as she transitions him to his child seat. Then Elle starts buckling him in, while saying, 'You see you're special like Mommy and Daddy. We have powers that are like yours. Now after breakfast, we're going to talk all about what special people can do.'

Noah nods happily as Elle finishes buckling him in. After checking his belt again, Elle slides the door closed. Then she opens the passenger side door and slips inside. She notices Sylar already has the mini-van running. Elle looks at him.

Feeling her blue eyes on him he turns to her, 'What?'

'So,' Elle draws the word out as he blue eyes search Sylar's dark ones, 'you said he would save the world?'

'Yeah,' he replies, 'but Angela's visions don't always work out, or at least not how you'd think. Even with her ability I don't all the stuff I dream.' Shrugging he says, 'Maybe he destroys it?'

Then their little boy asks curiously, 'World go bye, bye?'

Elle and Sylar yell in unison, 'NO.'

Behind them a startled whimper precedes 'Scary, Mommy. Scary, Daddy.'

'It's alright, Noah,' Elle assures him. 'Just no making the world go 'bye, bye.'

'Yes, Mommy,' Noah agrees reluctantly.

With an accusatory tone Elle says, 'He's _so_ your son.'

Sylar's voice contains a weary defeatism that bespeaks an argument lost long ago, 'How come every time he does something good he's your son, but whenever he does something wrong he's my son?'

'That's just the way it is,' Elle responds.

Sighing, he starts backing the mini-van down the drive, 'Whatever, at least Claire won't be bothering us again.'

'What about, Peter?' Elle asks.

'I don't know. He tried to explain that time travel thing to me once. Even using all those strings it made no sense,' Sylar answers. 'Maybe call him and see if he picks up? If not. . .' he voice trails off.

Sylar shifts the mini-van into drive. They roll smoothly down the road among the cookie-cut southern California houses.

Elle starts digging in her purse for her phone.

'Mommy,' Noah calls for the backseat.

'Hmm.'

'Uncle Peter go 'bye, bye?'

'Mommy doesn't know yet,' Elle states as she pulls her phone out. Pausing she asks Sylar, 'You know, if Peter is alive, he won't be really happy about this, so maybe it's time. . .'

'You're probably right, but I'm hungry and he might be a problem anymore,' Sylar responds.

'After breakfast then.'

'What's after breakfast, Mommy?' Noah asks.

Elle's blue eyes watch Sylar mischievously. She tells her son, 'How about after breakfast you make Uncle Peter go 'bye, bye?'

'ELLE,' Sylar snaps.

'What?' her voice falsely confused.

'Your incorrigible.'

'Yes, but you love me anyway.'

'Yeah, I do.'

_**Fini**_

* * *

_Thanks for reading. Any reviews are appreciated._

_I wrote this to fix the Syelle issues with season three. The first is Sylar killing Elle on the beach, fixed. Second, Knox killing Noah, fixed. In between, I used the basic season storyline, with the insertion of a pregnant Elle. _

_Why the smut scenes? Because sex is important to a relationship. How a couple has sex gives information about their relationship. The first scene, Canfield House, Elle dominates the relationship and their mating. The second, The Beach, Sylar is in control of both her and their relationship. Finally, the last scene is more equal partners, with Sylar in control but showing his appreciation of Elle. And you thought it was just smut for smuts sake;-)_

_As for whether that dissolving power would kill Claire/Peter, I don't know. If it dissolves the person it should. . .so it does in this story. _

_If you have any comments, criticism or questions, send them to me in a review of through messenger._


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